#fiber deployment

[lepton-software]

Fiber Planning: Key Consideration for Broadband and Deployment

This article into key considerations in fiber planning, future of optical fibers, the importance of network inventory management, and integration of telecom GIS to support broadband deployment.

Click to read more about Fiber Planning and Broadband Deployment.

[infomen]

High‑Speed and Secure Access Network Solutions – Esconet Technologies

Esconet Technologies offers comprehensive Access Network solutions tailored for enterprise environments. Their network infrastructure suite features high-speed copper and optical fiber connectivity (1 Gbps–100 Gbps), a multilayered design following core/distribution/access best practices, IPv6 readiness, Wi‑Fi 6/6E wireless, cloud-managed systems, advanced security (firewalls, IPS, VPNs), and deployable satellite broadband for remote locations. Partnered with top OEMs (Cisco, Arista, Juniper, Dell, HPE), Esconet ensures scalable, secure, future-ready digital transformation networks. For more details, Visit: Esconet's Access Network solution Page .

[legarski]

Hybrid Small Modular Reactors (SMRs): Pioneering the Future of Energy and Connectivity

SolveForce is proud to announce the release of a groundbreaking new book, “Hybrid Small Modular Reactors (SMRs): From Design to Future Technologies,” co-authored by Ronald Joseph Legarski, Jr., President & CEO of SolveForce and Co-Founder of Adaptive Energy Systems. This publication stands at the convergence of next-generation nuclear energy, telecommunications infrastructure, and digital…

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Big Guy Big Belly

König is a big man, and with a big man comes a big appetite. We’re talking about a 6’10 man constantly maintaining his peak physique. He needs to be consuming as many calories and as much protein, carbs, fats, fiber and more to keep himself in fit and fighting shape.

At the canteen, he’s a nightmare. I bet that people rush to the cafeteria just to make sure they get something to eat before the big man on base rolls up. He’ll clear out the bins if he gets a chance. There’s a rumour on base that the reason König fought so hard to climb the ranks so quickly was just to be able to eat more and get away with it. Little do they know that they’re absolutely right, but König will never say that out loud. Ever. There’s some secrets you take to your grave. 

Either way, König is a menace in the canteen. He’ll pile his plate as high as he can when he gets a chance. He’s packing away all he can get in the shortest amount of time he can, and everyone has to suffer for it. The worst part is that everyone has to rush to get to the caf before König, and König knows exactly what others are doing, so he’s in a daily race against the entire base to eat his fill. It’s always a photo-finish to see who gets to the cafeteria first.  König currently has been slacking, so he’s not been eating like he normally has. Is he mad? Not really. He’ll clean out the snack cart later. 

He’s a monster late at night. Everyone knows that you need to leave the big man to his snacks, lest you face the wrath of the colossus on base. Well, wrath in a peculiar way. He just gets quiet and angry, but it’s still not a fun experience to try and fight him for a sandwich. If you take the last egg salad sandwich you’ll be at the top of his shit list for the next week. Don’t even think he won’t track you down. He’ll throw around his rank just to get his hands on the poor bastard. Nobody is safe, either.

Stiletto only once took the last pudding cup. Once. She never made that mistake again. For a week he was giving her dirty looks over a cold shoulder as he bumbled down the hall. She eventually had to give in and sacrifice a desert to be able to get back in his good graces. She still thinks he’s a massive bitch because of it. And you know what? She’s right. Everybody knows she’s right, König included, but he’ll keep going after whoever ‘steals’ ‘his’ snacks. They get along a bit better now that they’ve both advanced in rank and worked together, but there was a good period of time where Stiletto had to sleep with one eye open.

It gets a bit better for everyone when König finally finds a partner and doesn’t stay on base so often. Everyone takes a moment to pray for the poor soul who has to cook for König whenever he gets home from deployment.

See, during deployment, König can’t be such a massive bitch about food. He gets his rations, and that’s that. He can’t steal from anybody else, so he gets stuck with these pitiful MREs that barely fill him up. It’s miserable, and he’s losing weight like crazy when on the field. He’s running on fumes and burning calories like crazy as he’s risking his life out there. It’s gotten to a point where König has taken to eating with hostages post-rescue to ‘help them feel safer’ (read: get more food into his gullet). Thankfully, he puts his best foot forward when dealing with victims of trauma and ensures that he has somebody else do all the socializing while he plays with the kids after dinner. Apparently, after the inevitable shower of tears whenever kids have to face König, he becomes pretty popular. They love to use him as a jungle gym (and make fun of him) and he’s just happy to get more to eat. He’ll take being called ‘bigger than even my dad!’, being told ‘you’re weird’ or being asked ‘why are you so big and scary all the time?’ any day for a little extra to eat. He can tolerate a few kids. He won’t ever admit that hanging around them makes him want some kids of his own, or at least not to Horangi, who’s already teasing König about being a surrogate father to the kids. König tells him to keep it to himself, but Horangi is already buying things for the baby shower.

Once König finally comes home, that’s when all Hell breaks loose. This man has been starving and he needs food NOW. He won’t take no for an answer. If you don’t have something prepared, he’ll be ordering a massive order of takeout the likes of which you’ve never seen before in your life. He’ll hit multiple places on his way back to your place if he doesn’t think you’ve been able to get something together for him. If you can’t cook, he won’t even bother telling you to cook for him and just focus on getting a whole banquet of junk food ready for when he arrives home. He brings the pizzas in the door before he even brings in his own bags. You’ll have to go out and grab his bag as he sets up his personal buffet table. The worst part is despite how much he can shove down, he always buys more than he can eat, so you’ve got a couple of days worth of food to shove in the fridge at the end of the night.

If you can cook, this is a multi-day experience. Is it rewarding? Absolutely. Is it painful? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’s got you slaving for hours a day just to get him a nice home cooked meal. You’ll be going all out to get him a big enough meal. We’re thinking a tray of mac and cheese, a whole roast chicken, easily a handful of loaded baked potatoes. If you have something from your traditional cuisine, he’s not picky, he’ll gobble it up in a heartbeat. Knowing you made it for him is more than enough for him. Food is the way to a man’s heart, some say, and König will never let you go if you treat him like the king he is.

The good thing about cooking König such a big meal is that he gives back. He’s not a fan of cooking, but for the next few days he’ll take over cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. It’s just an easy way for him to give back, you know? He can’t thank you enough with words, so why not with actions?

But the best part of König giving back is that he’s an excellent cook. He cooks mostly traditional food from his culture, but he’s down for some french or italian cooking if you’re into it. He can make a mean lasagne. He does not skimp on the cheese, this man. No he’s a cheese fiend. If you’re lactose intolerant, you’ve got another thing coming for you. He will hand feed you lactaid just for the meal. If you have a dietary restriction, he’ll learn how to cook your types of meals in abundance. He’s perfect that way. Vegetarian, vegan, keto, no matter what, he’s got your back. He’s learned how to make an excellent spread for a dinner party, and part of learning to cater to others is to work around other people’s diets; his mother drilled that rule into his little head as a kid. He does it without complaint, too. For at least a week after coming home, he’s just so happy to be around food in abundance again. He’s absolutely thriving in the kitchen before the thrill wears off and he’s back to avoiding cooking like the plague again.

He loves to eat, but usually hates to cook. He’ll mostly eat takeout until he actually has to eat a nutritious meal again for a change. It’s not that cooking is awful, it’s just that he hates doing the dishes. He’d be far more inclined if he didn’t have to do the dishes afterwards. If you take over dishes, he’ll definitely step up his game for the both of you.

All in all, König loves to eat. He’s a big man with a bigger appetite, as hard as that is to believe. Once he retires he has to learn to cut back a fair bit, but he never loses his taste for sweets and snacks. It’s just something you’ll have to learn to live with.

[roosterforme]

Alone With All Your Letters | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You had been with Jake for so long, he could barely remember himself without you. But he was ready for more, and he was tired of waiting for you to catch up to him. With a few ugly words, he broke your heart. And with one handwritten letter, you brought him to his knees. 

Warnings: Angst, smut, age gap, fluff, talk of pregnancy, 18+

Length: 3700

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

You had been with Jake for a long time. Almost seven years to be exact. And while he loved you and knew he wanted to be with you, sometimes it was hard for him to come to terms with the fact that you and he were still at slightly different places in your lives. 

He'd met you when you were still in college. College. And he had been... a bit removed from school by that point. He had been new to Top Gun and San Diego when you slammed into his life. You were out celebrating your twenty first birthday at the same bar where he was celebrating his thirty third. You were clearly mortified when you ruined his shoes with a pitcher of spilled beer. But when he laughed, you looked so relieved, he let you buy him a drink.

And then you let him buy you several. And then you let him get you an Uber. And then he joined you in the Uber and spent the rest of the weekend at your apartment.

"Jake?" you asked, holding up two dresses next to your shared closet in his house. "Which one for brunch?"

They were both short and would show off your legs. Jake would get looks from other guys his age when he kissed your neck or wrapped his arm around your waist. He would get the occasional, "Nice going, bro." Or even the, "Daaamn." 

You were young. You were hot. But Jake would much rather spend the day at home relaxing with you instead of heading out to a boozy brunch with your friends. Especially the day before an eight week deployment. 

"The blue one, Honey," he told you with a soft smile. As he watched you get changed, he stood and tried to choose a shirt for himself. But he was tired of helping you pick out outfits and trying to coordinate how his shirts looked with your dresses. It didn't matter. It was exhausting. 

And that was the trade-off for being in love with someone twelve years younger. He was in love with a woman who loved him back with every fiber of her being, but he was also in love with a woman who put off the things he wanted to do. He no longer wanted rowdy beach vacations and dancing all night in clubs. He wanted to go to Europe and visit galleries. He no longer wanted to go out to eat every night. He wanted to stay in with you and make a meal together. 

He always felt the clash. Always felt like he was conceding with what he wanted for what you wanted. And it had never been more obvious than when he asked you a few years ago if you ever wanted to have kids. 

"Sure, Jake," you had told him, kissing his cheek. "I love kids. But not yet. In another year or two."

He hated bringing it up, he really did. But your answer was always the same. In another year or two. But it had been three years, going on four. And nothing you were doing was telling him you were getting close to that point yet. 

But he got dressed for this brunch that he didn't want to go to. And he held the door and talked to your friends and drank a mimosa. But he just wanted to be at home, enjoying the last day before he shipped out on an aircraft carrier. 

Later that night, Jake watched you change into some lacy, light pink lingerie that looked delicious on you. And then you made a big production of avoiding his grasp with a laugh. 

"Wait a second," you told him, pushing him playfully away. "I have to put something in your duffle bag." He unbuttoned his shirt as you rooted around in your nightstand drawer and pulled out a stack of envelopes just like you always did. "Make sure you read them in order," you whispered, bending to tuck them into his bag.

"I always do, Honey. Now come here." 

You treated him to your mouth and your hands and your pussy, letting him have whatever he asked for. And he fell asleep wrapped around your body, listening to you say, "I love you, Jake. I'll miss you so much."

But the next morning, he felt anxious in that way where he knew he needed to say something again. He'd be arriving back in port just before his fortieth birthday. He knew he was getting older. He knew what he wanted. But if there was never going to be a compromise with the timeline, then he needed to be the one to make the decision for both of you.

As you stood before him on the dock, tears in your eyes and your arms around his neck, he couldn't hold the words back. "Honey. I love you, but... I don't know if this is working for me anymore."

He watched your face fall and your lips part into a look of shock. Your voice was only a desperate whisper. "Jake?"

This was miserable, but he had to do it. He swallowed his guilt and said, "I don't know what to do here. I don't know if you're even happy with where we are, but I'm struggling. I'm about to be forty. I'm tired of going out all the time. I'm tired of waiting another year and another year and another year to get serious about kids. I love you, and I want to do that with you, but I can't force you. So if we aren't on the same page any longer, then maybe we need to end things."

Your lips were quivering, and your eyes were welling up with even more tears as you let your arms fall away from his body. You stepped backwards, putting some distance between the two of you. Your gaze started to change from one of sadness to one of anger. And Jake regretted it. He regretted everything he just said, but it was too late to take it back. So he stood there in it and let the disgusting feeling of remorse wash over him. 

"Honey-"

But his name was being called now, and you stepped away again when he reached for you. "Goodbye, Jake," you whispered, your voice rough with unshed tears as you swiped at your eyes. 

He turned and walked toward the long, daunting ramp that would take him to his deployment and away from you. Perhaps forever. Every time he turned back to look at you, there were more tears in your eyes, but you hadn't moved an inch. When he made his way onto the carrier deck, he dropped his bag and pulled out his phone. 

Jake called you over and over, watching you standing on the dock as you ignored his calls before tucking your phone away. He called your name, screamed it over the noise from the crowd of people seeing their loved ones off. He hollered until his voice was hoarse. And then he got his phone out again, waiting with shaking hands until he got your voicemail. 

He was looking right at you, and you were looking back at him as he said, "Honey, please. I'm so sorry. Please. I didn't mean any of it. I love you. I need you. I need you to be there when I get home. Please! Fuck! I'm sorry. Please stop ignoring my calls! I love you."

With shaking hands, he ended the call and redialed your number. Once again he watched you ignore the call, so he left you voicemail after voicemail as the aircraft carrier pulled away from the dock. He apologized as many ways as he could until your inbox was full and you were just a speck in the distance. 

Jake collected himself off of the deck and made his way to his tiny bunk where he sank down onto the unmade bed and cried. What was he thinking? If he had to choose between a life with you or one without you, he wanted to choose you. He fucked up, and now there was no way you were going to listen to him. There was no way you'd be there when he got home. 

He just broke your heart and then his own with a handful of idiotic sentences that he said in place of having an actual conversation with you. If he ever accused you of being less mature than he was, well, he was wrong about that, too. This had to be the dumbest thing he had ever done. 

"Fuck," he groaned as he started unpacking his bag. But your letters to him were right there, and he thought he was going to throw up as he untied the stack and took the top envelope in his hands. 

That would be your revenge in a way. He would spend his deployment opening all of your sweet notes to him. You always did this, and he always loved reading them. But now he'd let them hurt. He would let himself feel pain. 

But he was in no way prepared for what he read in that first letter.

Jake,

I miss you already! I'm probably still on the dock waving and crying, watching you sail away. Eight weeks isn't forever, but I know every day is going to feel impossible without you. And I know you'll feel the same way. So let me send you off with a little bit of hope and a promise. When I told you I had a last minute appointment on Wednesday, I had my IUD removed. And I didn't get another one in its place. I'm ready. When you get back in two months, let's go for it. Let's make you a Daddy.

All my love

He folded the note back up as neatly as you had, and then he tucked it back inside the envelope and sprawled across the bed with his forearm over his eyes. And he didn't move for a long time.

---------------------

Jake was basically useless out of the cockpit. He flew his missions, and completed his training exercises, but he had to force himself to eat and go to the gym. There was no outside communication allowed this time around, so he had no way to talk to you, not that you would have answered your phone for him. 

To make things worse, he'd been rationing your letters to him, spreading out the pain, prolonging the agony. Each one was sweeter than the last, and each one made him ache. But he read that first letter every night before he went to sleep. Because, for the briefest point in time, he'd had everything he wanted. And now he had, well, essentially nothing. And because he had nobody to go home to, the weeks were flying by. He was nearing the end now. Nearing his fortieth birthday, and wishing he could just stay for another deployment. 

Silently, he packed his bag that final morning, but he held onto your letters, wanting to feel their weight in his hand. After nearly seven years of having you standing on the dock waiting for him to arrive home, he was going to have to call himself a cab. He'd go home and process things the best he could without you, but first he would stand there and watch everyone else fall into the arms of their loved ones. 

Jake tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder and wound his way down the ramp. He took a deep breath as his boots hit California soil, and he walked slowly into the crowd of people on the dock. The evening sun was still bright and hot as he was jostled around by all of the bodies. Choruses of 'I missed you!' and 'I love you so much!' rang out around him. When he closed his eyes, he could practically hear your voice, that's how well he remembered every single time you collected him here, took him home, and made love to him. 

But when he opened his eyes, he gasped. You were standing off toward the back of the crowd, face expressionless as the setting sun illuminated your features and your yellow sundress. The color of honey. Why were you here? To have your chance at telling him off? Or perhaps... 

"Honey?" he called out, suddenly shoving his way through the crowd. "Honey!" He rushed to you as quickly as he could, but you didn't move an inch. The only thing that changed was your expression, which was turning more apprehensive as he closed in. 

"Jake," you whispered when he was right in front of you. He hated the look you were giving him. There was an awful sensation in the pit of his stomach, a mix of wanting to reach out to hold you, but terrified of the rejection you were probably about to rightfully hit him with. 

"Honey. I fucked up."

You nodded, and the softest smile found its way to your lips. "You really did, Jake."

He dropped his bag to the ground. "Even if you're only here to slap me in the face, will you listen to me for a minute first?" When you nodded, he said, "I was frustrated. I'm getting older. I'm getting old for my career. I'm getting old to have a kid. And I feel at times like I'm too old for you to be satisfied with me."

"Jake, that's not true," you insisted, eyes bright with tears. When he ran his fingers along your jaw you didn't stop him. 

"Whether it's true or not, it's in my head. And I can't get it out," he whispered. "But I love you. I want to be with you. As soon as I told you otherwise, I regretted every single word, Honey. I didn't have to read any of your letters to know I had just made the worst mistake of my life. I didn't even make it all the way onto the carrier before I was calling you."

"I know," you whispered as one stray tear slid down your cheek. "I know you didn't read the note before you called me. I was watching you the whole time."

Jake brushed the tear away, fighting the urge to press his lips to that spot. "Then why didn't you answer me?" he asked softly. 

"Because I was mad. I'm still kind of mad at you. Either I'm enough, or I'm not. What if I can't even have kids? You were just going to leave me?"

"No," he swore, shaking his head. "The fact that you said you were willing to try with me is more than enough. Okay? You're more than enough, Honey. I love you."

You swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath. "I wasn't lying when I told you that I'd catch up to where you were someday. I never lied to you, Jake. So next time don't try to rush me into something, okay?"

He reached for your hand. "Next time?"

You nodded. "Yeah. Don't fuck up again."

"Does that mean you'll stay with me?" he asked, desperation in his voice as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

"Yes."

Jake pulled you against him, his lips meeting your forehead as he squeezed you. He let himself cry out all of the pain and hopelessness he had contained the best he could for the past eight weeks as you held him.

-------------------------

Today was his birthday. Forty. Jake was pretty sure he was on the verge of needing reading glasses, and sometimes his shoulder hurt when he got out of bed if he slept funny. But last night he slept funny because you were wrapped around him in bed. So it was worth it.

Things had been a little shaky after you picked him up at the end of his deployment a week ago. He'd begged you to stay with him in his house and work through things. You'd been living with him for so long, he honestly couldn't imagine his place without you anymore. You were having open conversations together, and Jake was finally starting to feel like things were getting back to normal. 

But he hadn't asked you once about your IUD, thinking maybe you'd changed your mind when he was deployed, after he word vomited all of his insecurities on you. No, he wasn't going to mention anything about birth control until you brought it up. So quite frankly, he wasn't quite sure if you and he had had sex with or without birth control last night. 

Jake went through his day, hoping that when he got home from work, you'd be there. And that maybe today would be the day you'd make it clear what you wanted now.

"Honey?" he called out after he unlocked his front door. 

"I'm in the bedroom, birthday boy!"

Jake smiled and headed toward your voice, stopping short in the doorway. You were perched on the edge of his desk wearing that light pink lingerie he loved so much. There was a cupcake on a plate next to you, and as he approached, he watched you strike a match and light the candle. Then you pursed your pretty lips to blow out the match, and Jake was right there. He kissed you, raking his fingers along your soft skin, so thankful you were with him. 

"Happy birthday," you managed between kisses.

"You look like my present, wrapped up all pretty."

Your soft laughter filled him up. "I actually got you a watch, but sure, I can be your present." You hopped down from the desk and ran your hands along the front of his uniform before taking his hand. As you led him toward the bed, you looked back at him, your eyes unguarded. "I'm still figuring out my cycles now," you muttered, shrugging nervously, "but I'm pretty sure I'm ovulating today."

"Honey," Jake groaned. "Say it. Please, say it."

But instead of saying anything, you crawled across the bed, letting him see your gorgeous ass. And when you eased yourself down onto your back and spread your legs wide, you asked him, "Don't you want to fuck a baby into me?"

Jake's eyes went wide as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside along with his undershirt. Then he eased himself down onto the bed, grabbing the backs of your thighs and kissing your core through the lace.

"Say it," he begged, watching you bite your lip and press your head back into the bedding. "Honey."

"I'm ready, Jake. I'm ready to make you a daddy."

With those words, Jake drew your legs back together and gently removed your underwear, letting the lace glide along your soft skin. And when he eased your legs apart again, he groaned. "You're perfect. I can't get enough." He pressed his lips and nose to your pussy, inhaling your sweet scent as he stroked your hips and belly with both hands. 

He could already picture you round and pregnant. He'd been imagining how beautiful you would be as a mom for years and years. When he kissed your belly button, you pushed your fingers through his hair. There was nobody else he'd ever wanted to do this with. 

When he met your eyes, there was a smile playing on your lips as you whispered, "Jake, we're going to have to do this all the time now. You know that, right?"

He groaned softly as he unclasped your bra and let his lips settle on your tits. "Yeah, I know," he told you, running his nose along the undersides of your breasts. "I'll fuck you full of my cum, nice and deep. Keep you full for as long as it takes."

"Oh, fuck," you gasped as he sucked on your nipples and unzipped his uniform pants. And then he was thrusting inside you, and the little sounds you made were the filthiest things he'd ever heard. He went harder, deeper, thinking about how he'd make sure you always had his cum inside you. How you'd smell like him. How he'd be on you all the time. 

"You're gonna look perfect carrying my child," he whispered, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Everyone will know what I did to you. Everyone will know how bad I wanted it."

The way you responded to him was too much. Your back was arched, and he could feel you tightening around him. "Everyone will know," you echoed in a moan. "They'll know you fuck me so good, Jake."

His forehead came to rest against yours as he panted. "You ready?" he grunted. "I'll fill you up right now."

"Yes," you whispered, taking his fingers and guiding them to your clit. With a few slow circles, he had you whining and squirming as you started to climax.

"Stay still, Honey," he whispered, his voice rough now. "Keep it all inside."

You were keening from his words and your orgasm as Jake filled you with his cum. "Fuck," you whined, and it was so loud and needy, he rammed his cock deep and held you to him while he pulsed inside you.

"Don't move, don't move," he whispered, kissing and licking your tits as your fingers stroked through his hair. "Don't waste it."

He was in love with you and the feel of your body. You wanted what he wanted. He would make it his mission to get you pregnant. 

"God, Jake." Your voice was raw and harsh as you said, "I'm getting your creampies around the clock now, aren't I?"

He lifted your hips gently off the bed and watched as he slowly withdrew himself from your pretty pussy as you whined softly. And when his cum started to dribble out of you, he gently fucked you with two fingers, pushing it deeper. "Around the clock," he confirmed. "Now let me eat my birthday cupcake and then I'll fill you up again."

You ended up sitting naked on Jake's lap and laughing while you had to pick the melted wax off of the icing. Then you fed him the cupcake, sneaking a bite for yourself as his cum oozed out of you and onto his khaki pants. He'd fuck you full again later. He'd keep doing it as long as it took.

"Happy birthday, Daddy," you whispered.

----------------------

I wrote Jake again? It's becoming a habit now. Thanks for reading this one! And thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[rainybubbles]

141 coming back to you after a eight months mission

Plus size reader :) !

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC)

G H O S T

-Eight long months, every fiber of his being yearned for a hot shower, his eyes struggled to stay open.

- Yet, it wasn't his shabby apartment that the taxi drove to.

-Simon, buried beneath the Ghost's mask, still held a glimmer of humanity within him, a breath hidden beneath Ghost's blood, death, and violence.

-But on that evening, what he ardently desired was them: their gentleness, their scent, their warmth.

-Like a wild animal slowly tamed by food, he returned to them whenever possible.

-Under the pouring rain, he advanced, hastily thanking the driver, the heavy bags weighing on his shoulders.

-He stepped into the still slumbering pastry shop, and the bell rang.

-And there they appeared.

- Covered in flour, with a pastry cap and apron, they were surprised to find someone there at five in the morning.

-"Simon," they murmured.

-The sound of his name was so sweet, so soothing.

- But he wanted more.

-He wanted them to whisper his name over and over again, filled with desire, until they could only utter it, clouded with pleasure.

-His bags fell to the ground, and his arms enveloped them in an instinctive movement.

- Their hair smelled of sugar and butter, the flour staining their black sweater. Simon wanted more.

-"Y/n"

-" I missed you," they whispered.

-He couldn't bring himself to respond, to admit this longing, but they could sense it.

-His arms didn't let them go.

-"Scone?" they asked.

-"No. "

-"Muffin?"

- "No."

-" Croissant?"

- "You," he finally said.

A silence stretched between them.

-"I have to finish my batch, I open in an hour. Do you think you can wait?"

-No, he couldn't. But reason prevailed, and he nodded.

-"I'll help you," he murmured.

-"You barely know how to fold a dough."

-"I can follow orders."

-"Sorry, soldier."

-Their laughter echoed, and a sense of relief washed over him.

- He wanted to hear that sound again and again.

- In silence, they worked. Simon followed every move, ignoring the pain, stretching each muscle. He was ready for anything.

-When the last batch was ready and the saleswoman arrived, Simon breathed a sigh of relief.

-Y/n gave their final instructions and left.

-Alone on the street, they walked together.

-Like a starving beast, Simon jumped at every crumb of affection, grabbing their hand, his fingers brushing theirs through gloves.

-"We need to talk, don't we?" they finally admitted.

-"Yes," he replied.

- "About what happened before your deployment…"

-The kiss. A hurried kiss, without thought.

- Lips so soft, erasing the bad news of his deployment and eight long months of silence.

-"I… "

-'Don't say you regret it," he finally said.

-"No, I don't. I mean it. But I don't want it to destroy us."

-"It won't."

-"I know you avoid people, Simon. Attachment."

-"Yes."

-But not them, he thought

- Since the moment his feet led him to that pastry shop. Simon knew he was doomed.

- A stupid cake for Soap's nephew, and he found himself charmed by a baker making incredible scones.

-Simon had become a regular there, a man of habit enjoying the good things, he told himself.

- It was close, he said.

-Close to his shabby apartment, to his gym.

-Just a daily stop for coffee and scones, he reasoned.

- But every morning, his eager eyes searched for their silhouette.

-Their rolls, their belly, their thighs, that smile.

- Every crumb he could get, he took.

-They eventually noticed him.

-A mountain of muscles, hidden by a mask, softened by scones, it wasn't the most discreet.

-They greeted him.

-Always the first customer at dawn.

-In reality, Simon came so early out of military habit but also to avoid the saleswoman.

-Simon desired the baker, not the small, slim saleswoman.

-Slowly, they spoke to him, and everything fell into place.

- They had become his anchor, an anchor in reality.

- A tough mission, and he came to them silently, without needing to place an order, without having to face the crowd, slipping to the back and watching them work.

-No questions, just comfort.

-The smell of sugar, flour, and eggs permeated his clothes in the most exquisite way.

-And now he dreamed of a life where this scent would be constant.

-"I don't want us to drift apart," they said.

-"We won't," he assured them.

-"So, what do we do, Simon?"

-"Kiss me."

-It was a prayer, a barely audible order, a cry for help.

-Slowly his mask fell.

- Their eyes met, hesitant but filled with desire.

-And they kissed him.

- In that dark street, under the pouring rain.

-"Again," he murmured.

-"We have to go back," they said.

- "I don't care about going back," he replied.

- "Simon, you don't want to spend your leave sick."

-"If I stay with you, I do."

-"Idiot."

- "For you."

-Their laughter burst out, and Simon kissed them again to capture it.

-Slowly, they finally arrived at their place.

-Their dog welcomed them, barking happily at Simon. And after eight long months, Simon could finally breathe.

-"I'm home," he murmured.

- "We were waiting for you," they replied.

-Nothing surpassed this feeling, he thought as he kissed them again.

-Simon was a man, and like any man, he had finally found his long-desired home in their arms.

__________

P R I C E

-In an emotionally charged atmosphere, Price let the water flow slowly, carrying away the remnants of blood under his nails.

-After eight long months, he felt like a ship drifting without a course, without a real destination.

-At least that's what he claimed to anyone who would listen, but the ring hanging under his uniform whispered different truths to him.

-Staring at his own reflection, Price read the inscription inside the ring, a name he hadn't uttered in years.

- Like enchanted by a spell whose charm he feared, he hesitated to whisper it again.

-Yet, his heart demanded it.

-He knew it was the longing that drove him.

-Without those eight months, he wouldn't be here, longing desperately to have them back in his arms.

-(It was false; since the divorce was signed, he dreamt of them.)

-Since the day their marriage ended, he had wanted to throw himself at their feet and beg them to come back.

- He desired their warmth, their ridiculous work stories, their cooking, their scent, their fingers, their kisses.

-They were the oasis in the desert of his life, and through negligence, he had let them evaporate.

- It all dated back to before his promotion to captain.

- Back then, he was just a young lieutenant full of ambition, willing to sacrifice anything to obtain that coveted title.

-But the long hours at the office had gradually poisoned his time with them, an absence they had signaled to him, one he had ignored, one he had maintained until everything exploded like a grenade.

-Now, he stood there, on the minefield of his emotional life with a ring they had probably forgotten, longing to hear them say yes once again.

-As he dried himself off, Price settled into his office.

-He told himself it was just simple nostalgia, but the bitter taste of tobacco wasn't enough to distract him, remembering how much they hated that smell. He extinguished his cigar.

-To take his mind off things, he decided to go to the nearest bookstore. A good book would be welcome, he thought.

-"John?"

-That voice, which had haunted him for three years and eight long months of divorce.

-"Y/N."

-It had been so long.

-Too long, he thought, seeing them so different.

- He admired their new haircut, their new clothes. What a lucky man he had been.

-"Yes. Still teaching?"

-"Yes. And you, did you manage to become a captain?"

-"Yes."

-The silence stretched, their eyes avoiding his.

-"But it wasn't worth it," he admitted.

-"Too much work?"

-"Not enough of you"

-"John," they interrupted.

-"I'm not trying to get us back together, far from it. I know it won't happen, but I wanted to be honest with you. I think this divorce has been the biggest failure of my life, and you deserved better than me."

-Hesitantly, they opened their mouth, a mouth he had kissed so many times, one that had shared all their troubles, all their doubts.

-"Thank you, John. But I'm also to blame. I should have told you everything that was going on in my head, everything that wasn't right."

-"You couldn't, when all I listened to were orders."

-"Maybe…"

-"Good person, wrong time, it seems."

-"Nothing prevents us from correcting the timing, right?"

-John raised an eyebrow.

-"It doesn't mean we have to start all over, but… you've been a pillar in my life, John. I missed you. Whether as friends or more, it doesn't matter."

-"Thank you, love," John murmured.

-They approached him, and during this long absence, John could finally feel human warmth again.

-To just be John again, not Captain Price.

-Their hands wrapped around each other.

-They both knew it wouldn't be purely platonic, but like a suspended promise, for now, they would stick to it, hoping that one day the rings would find their respective places again.

-Theirs from their drawer to their finger, and his from his neck to his hand.

-"I missed you."

-"You too. Tell me what I've missed."

-And John could only smile.

-If these eight months of hell, these three years of desert led him back to them, then it was worth it, he decided.

- So when he packed for his next return, the soldiers watched him curiously because for once the captain had a home where he really wanted to be.

_________

S O A P

-Immersed in an ocean of turmoil, Soap returned after eight months of absence, longing to celebrate his return with his family.

-His thoughts, drowned in alcohol and his mother's reprimands, were rocked by the cheery laughter of his nephews and nieces.

-Between the urge to scream and the desire to simply savor their presence, he oscillated.

-When the festivities finally came to an end, he could finally breathe.

-Eight months.

- Alone in his flat, memories flooded in, evoking strategies, bombs, deafening tumult, and lingering smells.

-Everything was an attempt at distraction; the television, the rain, a run, a cup of tea, messages on his mobile.

-He longed for something, even if he didn't know exactly what.

-But it was missing, creeping under his skin little by little, scratching at the door of his mind.

-"Again, really?'

-His eyes fell on his neighbour.

-The same one who had endured his screams at three in the morning, his hurried departures on missions, his heavy suitcases dragged at seven in the morning.

- And now, at four o'clock, they stood before him, a mischievous gleam in their eyes, the result of an incident involving dumbbells in his hands.

-"Sorry.", he apologized.

-"I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose."

-"On purpose…? "He raised an eyebrow.

-"So that we see each other. You know, like in those cliché romances where the noisy neighbour ends up seducin' the complainin' neighbour."

-Incredulous, he couldn't help but laugh.

-"Ye wouldn't need that."

-A teasing smile stretched across his neighbour's lips.

-"I know. But you seem to need it. Not an adventure, but a distraction."

-They referred to the dumbbells.

-"Aye."

-"I make cookies." they said.

-"At 4 a.m.?"

-"I know how to keep myself busy in silence."

-"…"

-"Interested?" they asked.

-The latent feeling under Soap's skin resurfaced.

-He nodded and followed them. And then he realized.

-The warm atmosphere, the decor, the unstacked dishes, the soft carpets.

-That's what he had missed, a heaven of peace.

-"They won't be the best cookies in the world, but they'll do."

-"Ah'm good at it." he said.

-"Pastry chef?"

-"Military."

-"Hm, that explains a lot. "They gave him a complicit look.

-"Like what?" Soap asked.

-"This horrible haircut."

Laughter erupted in the kitchen.

-"Ma haircut is incredible."

-"For a 6-year-old."

-"Ah look handsome with it."

-"Even without it."they said.

-"Good at flirtin'?"he asked.

-"With the right person, yes."

-Soap smiled.

-"Ye would be bonnie with a mohawk."

-"No thanks. But, well, I understand the muscles and the irregular movements now."

-"Aye, Ah don't choose my hours."

-Too bad, you'd think criminals can't be punctual, huh? "they joked.

-He smiled.

-"Exactly."

-Hands in the dough, Soap couldn't help but let his gaze drift over his neighbour's curves.

-He admitted that sometimes his door slammed a little louder in the hope of catching a glimpse of them, like a good luck charm before a mission.

-Curves he longed to explore, letting the eight long months fade from his memory to be replaced by love for them.

-"Ah should hae made more noise if it means havin' cookies."

-His neighbour smiled.

-"Maybe. I was worried about this silence, you know."

Soap felt touched by their concern.

-"Ah'm sorry."

-"Don't apologize, you didn't decide on that. It's just… maybe I could give you my number? If you ever have plants or stuff like that, I'll take care of them."

-"Okay." he acquiesced.

-He took the paper feverishly, keeping it as a precious treasure, and continued cooking.

-At the end of that day, returning home, Soap could finally close his eyes.

-The creeping feeling had come to an end.

-That longing, that emptiness, it was them, the sound of a life together.

-He brushed the paper, a smile on his lips.

-Getting up, he decided to drop a dumbbell loudly.

- A noise at his door rang out, and he smiled. Nothing was worth his neighbour.

-So slowly he opened the door, and dinner followed to apologize.

-Then another to repay.

-And slowly, they erased from his mind the eight long months that had haunted him.

G A Z

-After eight long months of absence, Gaz finally found a moment of respite in his humble accommodation on the base.

-The deafening noises of the base's incessant activity, the hurried faces, the soldiers' rushed departures, everything seemed to dissolve into a chaos filling his ears.

-Everything seemed to fade away as soon as he could cross the threshold of his room.

-Here, in this haven of tranquility, he could finally silence the external turmoil.

-His pulse slightly quickened as he reached for his phone, his fingers instinctively finding his favorite contact: them.

- He felt this visceral need to reassure them, to feel their presence through the voice that was so dear to him.

-In this suspended moment, he longed to hear nothing but their soothing breath, to lose himself in their tender words.

-His ears buzzed, every beep deafening his eardrums and…

-"Hello?"

-"Y/N," he murmured, relieved and tender.

-The echo of their voice provided him with a welcome comfort, a balm for his weary soul.

-"Kyle. Back among us?"

-"Yes, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you."

-"No, I'm on break. I have a shift tonight."

-A silence stretched.

-"Is everything alright?"

-Kyle hesitated before speaking.

-Is everything alright? The blood, the bruises, the cries, the deaths… Everything seemed to still be on his skin, vivid in his mind.

-"I don't know," he admitted.

-"You didn't break an arm, did you?"

-Kyle smiled at the memory.

-After a rough mission he had rushed to his flat ignoring the pain in his arm and the medics.

-Yet he ended up to E.R days later with a blue arm and broken bone.

-Y/n was one of the nurse who was in charge of him and his cast, they kept contact.

-"No, I don't know how I managed to cope without hearing from you."

-"Charming," they laughed at his attempt at flirting.

-"Maybe."

-"More seriously?"

-"Tired," he admitted.

-"I would tell you to sleep, but I imagine you don't want to."

-"I can't."

-Not when he knew the nightmares awaiting him.

-"…I finish at 1am, if ever. I'm not implying anything, I know your base is super far, but I know that company can help."

-"Hmm, I don't know, will there be food?"

-"My company isn't enough for you, Kyle?" they joked.

-"I fear not."

-"Damn," they exclaimed, laughing.

-Ah, there it was.

-A tender smile stretched across Gaz's lips.

- In this exchange, he found comfort, a precious connection.

-His body relaxed slightly.

-"I missed you," they confessed.

-"You too."

-"You know, I bought those awful biscuits you talked about so much, hoping you'd come eat them at my place."

-"I'll take it as a declaration at this rate."

-"Shut up, I know you'd never buy them because 'no time'."

-"I like speed."

-"Even in bed?"

-A mischievous smile formed on his lips.

-"That's for you to find out."

-"You always say that."

-"I mean it."

-"About?"

-"Us."

-"Kyle…"

-"I know, after eight months of absence, it might just be the longing speaking, but… the only thing I wanted was you. Coming back to you, holding you in my arms, making you laugh one last time. And… staying friends… it's worse."

-"Worse than eight months without me?" -"Yes."

-"You're horrible for doing this."

-"I know."

-"At a distance, over the phone. I can't… I can't guess anything."

-"I guess I'm a coward."

-"Shut up, I… I swear I'm going to hit you and then kiss you."

-"Kiss me?"

-"Of course, do you really think I answer all your calls at any time out of friendship?"

-"Y/N…"

-"Last time there was an eight-hour time difference."

-"You told me…"

-"That there were only two, yes, because… I didn't want you to worry. You're a stubborn idiot always thinking of others, so I wanted to be selfish for once that you are."

-"I am. I want you, Y/n."

-"Then come get me."

-Kyle smiled and hung up.

- In his car, stress, fear, adrenaline surged. But for once, the enemy wasn't to be fought.

-Once in front of the hospital, hours of driving later, he stood at the entrance and saw them come out.

-Their name spoken from their lips, and he embraced them.

-"Never again," they whispered.

-"I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

-"I swear I'll kick Price's ass if he does that again."

-"I'll help you."

-"Promise?"

-"Promise."

-And he kissed them.

-Suddenly the eight long months evaporated on Y/n's couch, his fingers sliding through their hair, and his lips on theirs.

-The silence returned and Kyle could finally breathe.

If you want more : my masterlist

[apollabarnes]

part two

thanks to @beanarie and @fiyaerrigan for cheerleading for more — hopefully this scratches that itch!

tommy's not sure how it happens, but he and athena start grabbing food once a week. sometimes it's dinner, sometimes breakfast, rarely it's lunch. they're both shift workers, so the changing schedule doesn't bother him.

it means that he has to keep going to the meetings, but… it's not so bad. if he talks, he talks around evan, because athena is close to evan and there's some things that she probably doesn't want to know. it's not as if he doesn't have a whole lifetime's worth of bad relationships to talk about.

he doesn't mention abby by name, either — that's a whole confusing mess that he just doesn't want to get into it with a member of evan's extended family.

mostly he listens, remembers, tries to use some of the reframing that they suggest.

"my dad was a real shithead," tommy says one night when he's halfway through a stack of waffles. "joining the army was just a way to get away from him."

athena makes an understanding noise, snapping her bacon in half.

they've both learned that if she talks, tommy's likely to clam up and drop the subject.

"he wrapped the car around a tree three years into my deployment," tommy continues. there had been a whole thing involving bereavement leave and a hardship transfer stateside because his mom couldn't cope afterwards. he doesn't like remembering that part, either. "it's probably the best thing he ever did with his life." tommy's still not sure whether he means killing himself or doing it in a way that meant no one else got hurt. the damage was limited to tommy and his mother, but that's been a hell of a shadow to deal with.

"i've met a few of those," athena says, after a pause to make sure tommy didn't want to add anything else.

"i'm not surprised." tommy methodically cuts a waffle along every raised imprint, popping a square into his mouth.

it's kind of like having a sponsor, he guesses. if that was something the family groups actually did. athena tells tommy how may's classes are going, that harry wants to stick around for college after he graduates. she tells him about a fire at an animal shelter that bobby had dealt with, and that buck — evan — had fostered a dog for a few days.

tommy wonders how that worked. evan had told him about hoover one night over dinner.

athena pauses mid-sentence and tommy stops her from apologising. "i can hear his name, it's fine." he's not sure how to explain that he's managed to… silo off evan from buck. evan is his ex. buck is one of athena's coworkers. hearing about buck doesn't make tommy sad, because he never really spent time with buck.

she gives him what he's dubbed the maurice stare. (he saw it a lot in the six months between bobby arriving and transferring to harbour. sees it more now.) but tommy is unflappable and therefore not bothered by it.

the standoff is broken by her phone buzzing. "that's my ride," athena tells him. "my car's in for service."

"i could have given you a ride," tommy offers before he can think better of it. "you didn't have to call an uber."

"that's cute, but i called my husband."

tommy breathes in. doesn't react. can feel the tension coiling around the base of his spine. "tell bobby…"

"he's not coming in, tommy," athena reassures him. "i told him i was grabbing food with someone from work."

tommy thinks about that. they're not in front of the windows, and his back is towards the door. the chances of bobby seeing or recognizing him are definitely lower than they would be if tommy showed up in his truck to drop athena off. and if bobby looks around the parking lot, well, how many grey trucks are in los angeles?

he'd still prefer the drop-off option.

"it's not like you need to keep this a secret," tommy says instead, even though every fiber of his being is screaming that he doesn't want anyone to know. that he doesn't want bobby, specifically, to know, because once he knows it's only a matter of time before the rest of the firehouse finds out.

"of course i don't, tommy. same time next week."

part one // part three

[loves-alibi]

john price x reader

summary: you ask John to do the last thing he’d ever want to do

tw: mention of dying in the military

*****

John Price who’s following the nasty footsteps of his family– a long line of men killed in the army, by their blind loyalty to the crown. John Price won't give up his job. John who knows that he’s not breaking the cycle– the curse. He won't suddenly be the first of many John Prices (because, of course they share a name) to see his fifties.

The same John Price who marries you. A non-military sweetheart. At first he thought you found it charming, brave of him to put his life down for the crown and for the world. You let him put a ring on your finger. You let his crew come to your intimate wedding (so intimate that your extended families aren’t invited). You let him disappear from your home for weeks on end, no contact, and welcome him back like it’s perfectly normal.

Then why are you so upset? Why are you standing before John on the morning of his deployment, tears in your eyes begging him, it’s time to retire.

He doesn't get it because it's all he's ever known. All the Prices have been cursed to ever know. You beg him to retire but you don't understand that he can't. That every fiber of his being will cease to exist if there isn't gunfire whizzing by his ear and someone calling him Captain. That John Price is fated to the same end that his father and his father before him and- hell -probably his father before him met. The Prices are simply born to serve.

He tries to help you understand. He gives you his mum's phone number, tells you to call her when you get lonely or worried on deployment. Call your mother? The woman widowed by war?

John cringes. The sun is peeking over the horizon. He needs to go and he tells you that. You crumble. Your hands tremble as they hold onto his chest, padded with layers of clothing and jackets. It's winter, when deployments are always the worst. It's only winter in half the planet, yet somehow John always ends up in the cold.

His thoughts pull him away from you, your heat, from the damp warmth of your breath to the molten tears streaking your face.

Please, John, you said, for me.

Give it up, for me.

Give up, for me.

Give up.

He leaves you for base. You whose picture John looks at a little more than usual during this deployment, and Simon Riley, who notices.

Simon Riley who sits next to John during his night watch. He pulls two cigarettes from his pocket and hands one to John, lighting it without a word. They’re in Siberia, of course. John’s been crying, but the bitter cold dries his tears before they can leave his eyes.

"Pretty bird," Simon says, gesturing his hand to the picture in John's hand. John's thumb brushes over the curve of your cheek. "Lovely bird."

John's fingers twitch, ready to refold the picture. Simon notices and places a calm hand on John's wrist.

"She's making me retire," John blurts.

"That true?" Simon muses, taking a drag like he knows it’s not. Frankly, he does know. John’s his longest friend, and Simon can read him like a book. "I didn't know that was possible, giving you orders.”

“Neither did I.”

Simon puts a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you head in? I’ll take watch.”

John goes inside wordlessly. He heads to the bathroom and in the mirror he sees the face of his father. He’s always looked scarily like his old man, down to their idiotic facial hair. John grew it out like him in his twenties, when he was finally able to grow more than pubescent scrap. Now, with a fuller beard and duller eyes, he’s more similar to his father than young John ever thought possible. His father�� a man who never had the privilege of going gray. Sure, he died a few years older than John is now, but he was never exactly old. Dead at 42. John's got... 5 years left by that count. 5 more years fighting, five more years with you.

John shaves it off. He leaves his stache, but that’s about it. He doesn’t want to see the old John Price, put six feet under before his boy— his namesake —graduated primary school. His hand shakes while he shaves. He should stop. The knife he’s elected to use is too sharp to risk a case of unsteady hands, but John needs it off. And off it goes. The skin beneath the beard is paler than the rest of his face. It’d take much longer for that to go away.

Someone pounds on the door of the bathroom. “Captain,” Johnny, “I know you’re takin’ a shite, but could you hurry up?”

John chuckles softly, “Fuck off, MacTavish.”

John shuts the toilet lid with his boot and takes a seat on it. He shoves a hand in the chest pocket of his coat, to the pen with a piece of paper stuck in the clip. John carefully unfolds the paper.

Armed Forces Pension Application Form.

John clicks the pen and gets to work.

[bunny-extract]

I just can’t get over Ghost realizing he’s exhausted every other option before lining his fist up to his cheek and punching himself in the face over and over, frantically working against basic instinct to dislocate his own jaw. His limbs growing cold and numb while the virus takes over his nerves, rooting itself into the fiber of his muscles, recoding every neural network while he holds on to the memory of your smiling face back at home wishing him a safe and quick deployment. Smiling to himself with a mouth full of blood before his bone finally cracks.

[tomorrowusa]

The MAGA FCC wants to screw consumers to help bigtime telecommunications companies which make big contributions to Republicans.

The Federal Communications Commission is ditching Biden-era standards for measuring progress toward the goal of universal broadband deployment. The changes will make it easier for the FCC to give the broadband industry a passing grade in an annual progress report. FCC Chairman Brendan Carr's proposal would give the industry a thumbs-up even if it falls short of 100 percent deployment, eliminate a long-term goal of gigabit broadband speeds, and abandon a new effort to track the affordability of broadband. Section 706 of the Telecommunications Act requires the FCC to determine whether broadband is being deployed "on a reasonable and timely basis" to all Americans. If the answer is no, the US law says the FCC must "take immediate action to accelerate deployment of such capability by removing barriers to infrastructure investment and by promoting competition in the telecommunications market." Generally, Democratic-led commissions have found that the industry isn't doing enough to make broadband universally available, while Republican-led commissions have found the opposite. Democratic-led commissions have also periodically increased the speeds used to determine whether advanced telecommunications capabilities are widely available, while Republican-led commissioners have kept the speed standards the same.

The cynical idiots who ignorantly claim that there is no difference between the major parties will probably be among the first to complain when their speeds go sluggish and their bills rise.

Fiber networks can already meet a 1,000/500Mbps standard, and the Biden administration generally prioritized fiber when it came to distributing grants to Internet providers. The Trump administration changed grant-giving procedures to distribute more funds to non-fiber providers such as Elon Musk's Starlink satellite network. Carr's proposal alleged that the 1,000/500Mbps long-term goal would "appear to violate our obligation to conduct our analysis in a technologically neutral manner," as it "may be unreasonably prejudicial to technologies such as satellite and fixed wireless that presently do not support such speeds."

Even though Elon Musk and Donald Trump may be having a lovers' quarrel, they are still benefiting financially from their relationship.

[bloatedandalone04]

Love in the Dark

➪the one where the deployments become too much.

Warnings: swearing, angst, sad boy bradley, lowkey depressed reader, more angst bc im sick and unhappy about it, also new theme bc why n o t

Word Count: 2.8k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ Thank you for 3.4k followers mwah

You couldn’t bring yourself to think about the very real fact that you had spent more time alone this year than with your fiancé, who is going into his fourth month of deployment. It was nearing the end of September, and you had done pretty much all the planning for the wedding yourself, despite Bradley desperately wanting to do it with you. 

You offered to wait for him, but he assured you that whatever you came up with would be more than enough and that he would be all on board for planning the honeymoon afterwards. Really, you couldn’t hold off on planning for too long since time wasn’t slowing down, and you needed to get a move on. 

A date set for the end of the year was planned, and Bradley would be back from this deployment weeks before the big day, but it was still hard to look forward to it when you had been by yourself for most of the preparation time. 

This time he was going to be away from the ending of May to the beginning of November, his longest deployment by far during the four years you’ve been together. It truly didn’t get easier.

In fact, it only got harder. He had been deployed earlier in the year, and though that one was only a few weeks, you were still on your own. 

And you would still be on your own, even a few weeks before you were set to wed. You wished it was, but having Bradley return just in time for the wedding really wasn’t enough. 

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you began dating a guy in the navy, but you weren’t aware of just how hard it would be. All his other deployments were bad enough, but having him thousands of miles away from you for half a year wasn’t easy.

You wanted to marry him, with every fiber of your being, but you also knew you couldn’t take much more. Falling hopelessly in love with an aviator was one of the best things to ever happen to you, but it was also one of the hardest. 

Which is why you had begun pushing aside the planning of your wedding, and started to pack things away. Slowly, your shared room held more of his things than your own, with your pictures, posters, trinkets and books all stuffed away in one of the many cardboard boxes you had reluctantly bought about six weeks into Bradley’s current deployment. 

You didn’t think you could actually bring yourself to pack them, but nearly two months later there were boxes scattered around your house. It looked like you were moving in, with Bradley’s few possessions not doing much to give the place a personality. 

He was a minimalistic kind of guy, so he really didn’t have much, but yours and his things fit together, made the house feel lived in. Take away half of that, and it felt empty. It looked empty, and you hated to think that this is what he would be returning to. 

You hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, so you weren’t able to confide in him and revel in the way he was always able to comfort you, even when he was so far away. Sending emails wasn’t enough, and you hated sending them, so you didn’t bother with that - with the exception of one that simply read ‘I miss you so much it hurts’.

It was a harsh jab, but it was just how you felt.

He got back to you a few days later with a reply that said ‘I miss you, too. It’s so hard to be away from you. I think I’ll be able to facetime in a couple weeks, I can’t wait to see you, pretty girl’.

It had been enough to have you push away the boxes, but you still ended up packing them when a couple weeks turned into a month. 

You were rummaging around in the cupboard that held all your mugs when you heard your phone go off from where you placed it on charge in the bedroom. Pulling it from the cord, you swipe on the answer button and watch as the screen buffers for a second before you are met with the face of your fiancé. “Baby,” he rasped, a grin breaking out on his lips when he met your eyes through the screen. 

You force out a smile, hating the fact that the sight of him didn’t help the constant ache you felt in your heart. “Hi,” was all you managed to say, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to sound excited. 

“Hi,” he said back, never taking his eyes off you. “You look so beautiful. I miss you so much.”

Giving him a tight smile, you nod, glancing up at the wall in front of you instead of looking at him. “I miss you, too,” it was so quiet, you weren’t sure if he even heard you. 

He must’ve, as he called your name in an attempt to get you to look at him. “What’s wrong?” He asked when he saw the tears that had gathered in your eyes. 

You knew this wasn’t fair to him, he had limited time to talk and you couldn’t even look at him for more than three seconds before you were breaking eye contact once more. “I just….” You trail off, sniffling quietly and taking a deep breath. “It’s hard not seeing you everyday. I’m almost done with the wedding planning, but I don’t know if-” You cut yourself off before you could confess what you had actually been up to.

Bradley gave you an uneasy look. “Y/n, can you look at me? Please?” he called quietly, his heart skipping a beat when your teary eyes found his. “It’s hard not seeing you, baby. I miss everything about you. But we’re over halfway through this now, only just over a month left before I’m back. And then we’ll be getting married a few weeks after that.” He tried to cheer you up, but it clearly wasn’t working as you just cried a bit harder. 

“It hurts, Bradley,” you confess, watching the way he furrowed his brows. “I hate sleeping alone in our bed, I’ve been sleeping on the couch for the last two months because I can’t stand being in our room without you there. It sucks waking up alone and having to live in this house by myself. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He shook his head quickly, sitting up a bit straighter as he moved closer to the screen. “I know it’s hard, I…Why haven’t you told me you were sleeping on the couch? I hate thinking that you’re all by yourself there, baby, and it kills me to know you can’t sleep in our own bed anymore,” 

“It’s humiliating, Bradley,” you mumble, wiping your face with both hands, not realizing what you had just shown him. “I don’t want you worrying about me, I-”

“Y/n,” he cut you off, his voice shaky as his whole body went stiff. You look at him, biting down on your lip as you wait for him to continue. “Baby, where’s your ring?”

You part your lips in shock, glancing down at your bare finger. “It’s, um,” you try to explain the absence of the ring he had given you at the end of last year. You could say you were cleaning earlier and took it off, but that would be a lie. You could say it was away getting cleaned, but that would be a lie, too. Really, you took it off because you wouldn’t be marrying him once he returned back home. You wouldn’t even be in this house. “It’s on the dresser.”

Bradley felt his face heat up. “Why?” When you didn’t answer him, he started to panic as he knew where this was going. But he couldn’t let it get there, he wouldn’t. “Y/n, don’t do this.”

You stifle a cry and hide your face in your hands, further breaking his heart as he watched you sob on his side of the bed. It was then when he realized that your picture frames you had put up on the wall beside the bed were no longer there.

Tears burned his own eyes as it all set in. You had started taking down things from the walls, you took off your ring, you couldn’t even look at him. You were leaving him, and he wasn’t even there to fight for the best relationship he had ever been in. “Baby, please,” he begged, his voice sounding a bit strained as he ignored the look he got from the aviator next to him. “Please, don’t do this.”

Now you had gone completely silent, and you still couldn’t fucking look at him. 

“Y/n,” he said, trying to sound stern but he knew he just sounded pathetic. “Please, just, wait for me. Just over a month left and then I’ll be back there with you and we’ll get married and I’ll take time off so we can be together.”

“I am waiting,” you mutter. “I’ve been waiting, Bradley. For four months, I’ve been waiting for you. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he repressed a cry and wished you would just look at him instead of whatever the fuck had captured your attention beyond the screen. “I’m coming home, okay? I’m coming back to you, to us. Please, let me fix this. I can fix this.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” you shrugged sadly, finally looking at him. “I love you more than anything, but you can’t fix this. This is all on me. I thought I could do this, but all this waiting around for you feels like it’ll kill me. Bradley, I’ve never felt this alone in my entire life.”

“Don’t say that,” he begged. “Please, don’t say that to me. Please, baby, let’s just talk about this when I get back. Just stop packing and put your ring back on and wait for me. You’re breaking my heart here.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, wiping under your eyes and accidentally showing him your ringless finger again. It was a sight he never wanted to see again after he proposed, and he was sure he never would when you said yes. “I can’t.”

“Fuck, Y/n,” he cursed under his breath, blinking away the tears that gathered on his waterline. “Please, stay with me, okay? I know it’s hard, it’s fucking hard for me, too. It kills me to know that you’ve been thinking about all this since I’ve been away, but we’re good together. What we have is good and it works and…fuck, baby, we’re supposed to be getting married.”

His voice broke at the end and you immediately started crying again. “I want to marry you so badly, Bradley,” 

He knew he was reaching at this point, but that single sentence had his heart beating with the smallest fraction of hope. “So we’ll get married at the end of the year like we planned,” he pleaded. “Please, say you’ll wait for me. We’ll figure all this out together, not like this.”

You went quiet again, and Bradley foolishly thought that meant you had decided to stay and wait out another month or so. At this point, he was prepared to retire early if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life with you. But then you shattered his heart with your next words, “I’m moving out, Bradley,” you informed him quietly. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

“Baby, please-”

“I can’t look at your things anymore and I can’t wait for you to get the chance to call me every couple of months,”

“Y/n, please,” he desperately tried to get you to listen to him, but he was being informed that he was almost out of time, and he hated just how literal that statement was at the moment. “I love you, okay? I love you so much and I need you. I need you to be there when I get back, I need you to promise me you’ll put your ring back on and you’ll marry me in December-”

“Bradley,” you cut him off, watching as someone began tugging on his shoulder. You sighed and got a good look of his achingly handsome face one last time before you were standing up from the bed. “You need to go, and so do I. I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, wait, please,” he tried to say but stopped when the screen went black and he was met with the sight of his tear streaked face in the reflection. He sat there in disbelief for a few more seconds before dropping the Ipad on the table and leaving the room. 

His whole body was numb as he walked down the hallway, his mind racing with thoughts about what exactly just happened. Going into that call, he was a happy, engaged man, and now he had no clue where he stood with you. 

He fell onto his bed as he let the harsh reality set in. 

You broke up with him. You called off the engagement. You left him.

That was all he needed to think about before he was crying quietly into his pillow. He was glad his bunkmate wasn’t in the room right now, but even if he was, Bradley was sure he still wouldn’t be able to not cry right now at what he just lost. 

He reached his hand out and blindly dug around in his bag, pulling out the photo he kept in the pocket. Through blurry vision he was able to make out the two of you at the Hard Deck, his arm wrapped around your shoulders while yours were around his middle. It was taken on your fourth date, back when he was sure he had found the girl he was going to marry one day. 

And it was true. 

Just two dates in and he was whipped for you, ready to push away any other potential dates with other women and wanting to settle down with you. He deleted the few dating apps he had installed on his phone, removed a bunch of random numbers on his contact list and told you that he was looking for something serious at that point in his life. To be fair, he was thirty two when he met you, and he was craving that sort of domestic life he had been told comes with starting a serious relationship. 

Thankfully, you felt the same and by the fifth date, you were officially his girlfriend. 

And a few years after that you became his fiancée, and he was the happiest he had ever been. 

He cried a bit harder as he stared at the picture, wishing he could go back to that exact moment and start over. He would never want to give up the memories he had made with you since then, but he would also do anything to have a second chance and do it right this time.

Did he miss the signs? Was he not paying enough attention for him to be able to see that you weren’t doing well with the whole thing? When had he become so blind to your feelings? 

You looking so defeated and sad was something he never liked seeing, especially when he was so far away from you and couldn’t properly comfort you. When he saw how you removed your engagement ring and the evidence that you really are moving out of the house he’s shared with you for three years, he had never felt more heartbroken in his life. 

He had never felt this devastated. He felt more isolated than before. 

Bradley was usually able to cope with deployments pretty well, knowing that he had you to go back home to. 

Now he knew you were leaving him and had even started packing your things. He would be returning home to a house that no longer held your stuff in it and would have to sleep in a bed you avoided for months because it hurt you too much.

He had never wanted to hurt you, ever, but that was exactly what he had done. 

Really, he couldn’t blame you for leaving. He knew that dating someone in the navy isn’t easy, but he still felt bitter at the fact that you wouldn’t let him try to fix it in the limited way he could. There wasn’t much he could do from his place on the carrier ship, but he still tried to get you to talk to him. He tried to save the relationship, but it was too much in the end. 

He was asking too much of you, and he also wasn’t enough.

[catgirlredux]

Hound Dogs

“… tomorrow we’ll meet your handler. For now, rest up.”

RDAI.vii.1156 stared down at its new body. Joining the military was considered the best route a Class-F citizen could pursue - free food, shelter, maybe even a few augments if you got lucky. But the Rapid Deployment Auxiliary Infantry unit felt less lucky and more confused. It signed up expecting to be given a gun and a pat on the back, not… this.

The arms were probably the strangest change. Skilled military surgeons had removed its forearms with a single blast of a laser that numbed its pain and severed flesh and bone at the same time. In their place, 1156 now wielded on each arm a single long, spider-like metal blade that extended all the way to the floor. The same happened to its legs, forcing the unit onto all fours. A reinforced spine kept it from collapsing onto the ground.

The rest of its body was covered in angular metal plates, designed to redirect and resist gunfire and protect the unit’s remaining flesh. Its face was likewise covered by an solid steel visor, vision and hearing substituted by an array of cameras, sonar, and radio scanners that fed information directly into its augmented brain. Its mouth remained uncovered but its teeth were removed and replaced with a new carbon fiber set. The chip in its brain repressed its discomfort so it didn’t try to claw off its own jaw.

A buzzer sounded and a tray carrying a bowl of nutrimeal slid out of the wall of the room. Unit 1156 stared it at, trying to figure out what to do - an injected concoction of hormones and suppressants had kept it comfortably dull, but somewhat muddled.

>EAT

The word flashed up on the inside of its visor, glaring into its semi-redundant eyes - eyes now dedicated to receiving screen-fed orders. It obediently craned its head down and started chomping at the slop. It was starving - the accelerated healing process was effective but it sapped all the solider’s energy.

Even if its senses hadn’t been muted, the nutritional goop was flavorless. Nevertheless it found itself slurping away with abandon, licking the bowl clean, dignity cast aside. Its faceplate glowed white hot for a moment before cooling down again, singeing off specks of food that had flown astray in the unit’s feeding frenzy. This feature was meant to burn blood and dirt off so that it didn’t impair an RDAI’s sensor array, but it worked for dinner well enough.

>GOOD MUTT

*****

The next day found RDAI.vii.1156 waiting in the main hangar, still slightly trembling on its spindly new legs. The thin, bladed design was perfect for chasing down enemy troops on the battlefield or pinning a straggler to the ground, but it was difficult to balance with even with the aid of the unit’s brain augments. A cord plugged into the back of its head kept it from wandering too far while feeding low-level electrical pulses that helped calm its nerves. It was waiting for its new handler - the soldier it would fight alongside, whose life it would dedicate itself to protecting. The bond between a handler and their hound (as the units were fondly referred to) was something truly unique, and though 1156 hadn’t planned to end up on this side of the relationship, it couldn’t help but feel excited.

It could feel her presence long before she actually entered the hangar. Perhaps it was merely the hormonal braindeck releasing waves of dopamine, but to the cyborg’s mind she was the most perfect being in the world. It could almost taste the draw of her augments to its own, pulling the two of them together like magnets. It knew that she felt it too. The connection between them was already established: the handler and the hunter, the owner and the dog.

It couldn’t quite remember what beauty looked like but it decided that she must be as close as one could get. Bent on all fours as 1156 was, it stood about half a meter shorter than her. Encased in a shiny automorphic techsuit, her body rippled with hidden energy ready to be unleashed at a moment’s notice. Her one eye shone, the other replaced by an implant that flashed rapidly as if to say, it’s finally you.

A technician standing by unplugged the unit’s tether and stuck in a thinner, double-ended wire. 1156 trembled as its handler grabbed the other end and slowly slotted it into a port on her neck.

The instant the plug connected, 1156 nearly collapsed from the tsunami of pleasure that struck it at full force. All Handler’s emotions, all her thoughts, her very essence flowed through its brain, and it could tell that she was experiencing the same influx of data.

They stood there for what seemed like forever, its faceplate lights flashing in sync with her vitals node. The only sound was the slight clinking of metal on concrete as 1156 shifted from talon to talon. Her designation was RDI-H.2054, she was a Class-E civilian who was recruited at age 8, she had been trained as a handler for 11 years, but 1156 was her first hound of her own. She liked the color green, she hated morning training, she had been deployed overseas on a scouting mission just three months ago. The unit’s brain felt overloaded with information and yet more kept flowing in.

It saw vague images, faces of people that it didn’t recognize yet felt so familiar - Handler’s family? It saw the fire of war, the smiles of fellow soldiers, it felt her heartbeat, her brainwaves, her every breath. For a split second, the hound and the handler were not separate but rather a single entity, one soldier in two bodies, sharing their memories. 1156 felt its Handler’s cybernetic eye and her prosthetic leg, and she likewise felt its spindly new form and armor plating.

RDAI.vii.1156 felt 2054 about to scream and roared out in sync. Its twisted metallic vocal chords, designed specifically to instill fear in the enemy, pierced the air in the hangar with an unearthly screech which neither overwhelmed nor surrendered to its keeper’s voice but rather merged with it in a feral harmony.

*****

Blood spewed down the dog’s chin and through crevasses in its armor. It spit out a chunk of flesh with strands of muscle tangled in its reinforced teeth. As it stepped back from its prey, its pointed blades withdrew from within the dead footsoldier’s chest. The unit’s faceplate sizzled, burning away blood and viscera and turning its vision bright red for a moment. It let out a fierce howl, launching itself forwards with a speed unmatched by any two-legged infantry.

Just behind it, its handler finished off a tank pilot attempting to crawl away from its craft. The hound’s many sensors highlighted the remaining stragglers on the battlefield, and 2054 assessed the remaining threats as she ran. She spotted a wounded soldier training their scope onto her companion and raised her weapon, disintegrating the enemy’s face with a single clean blast. The hound bayed its gratitude before finishing its run, speeding between rocks and debris and eliminating the last few soldiers.

One, two, three, blood gushed from their chests as 1156 pounced on them, puncturing their lungs and tearing out their throats in quick succession. RDI-H.2054 watched and basked in the adrenaline - her brain had not been upgraded to manage her auxiliary’s entire suite of sensors, but they shared many core sensations. They both felt the rush of war, the warmth of blood on their faces, and most of all an immense wave of satisfaction and even euphoria. Nothing felt better than killing together - an entire battalion laid to waste at their hands gave them a jolt of dopamine that felt better than orgasm.

They were never awarded for their feats, nor did they feel the need for any such recognition. Deep in their programming they didn’t fight for any cause or nation, or even for their commanding officer. They fought merely to tear and bite alongside each other, to see the fear in their enemies’ eyes and feel their life drain out at the will of the hound of death and its handler.

Standing together in the remains of a decimated army, they surveyed their work. The air smelled of blood and the familiar scent of plasma-scorched air. 1156 playfully rammed its armored face into its handler’s chestplate, grunting and drooling red down her torso. She laughed and rubbed the top of its head, sending microscopic ripples of pleasure down its spine.

>GOOD JOB DARLING

[estavionpira]

she let me hit because of my six eyes, retractable blades in all appendages, telescopic vision, reinforced skeleton, joints with extreme range of motion, reptilian tail, acid spit, perfect memory, enhanced perception, hyperefficient muscle fibers, three hearts, deployable sugar glider-like membrane for long falls, extremely rapid healing, kinetically-absorbent scales, electronics-interfacing tendrils, near-instant reaction time, bulletproof organ sheaths, consciously-adaptable immune response, data chip containing the sum of humanity's knowledge implanted into my prefrontal cortex, massive multitasking capability, fireproof skin, alterable metabolism, improved bite strength, toxin-resistant clear second eyelid, greatly sped-up cognition, compressed o2 sacs for diving great distances, and great pr team

[atntbitchmobile]

The time apart

You had been counting down the days, months even, until you could return home from your lengthy deployment with the Army. The adrenaline from intense missions had long faded, replaced by the aching anticipation of being reunited with your husband, James. For endless nights, you fantasized about your reunion, each thought intensifying your longing and need.

When the day finally arrived, you were a bundle of nerves as you stepped through the door of your cozy home. James was already there, waiting with arms wide open and an affectionate smile that made your heart race. There was no need for words; the soft loving look in James's eyes spoke volumes,

“God, I’ve missed you,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion as you pulled James into a tight embrace. Your bodies melded together as if they could chase away the months of separation with mere proximity.

You whispered softly into James's ear . Every fiber of your being ached for the closeness you craved so desperately. Your whispered words were barely audible: "I missed you so much~."

James, tenderly, tracing your features with gentle fingers. “me too,” he says loving and, you were glad that you were truly home.

Your reunion was electric, a symphony of love and unrestrained passion. You savored every touch, every kiss, as if you were a parched man tasting water for the first time. Each moment was electrifying.

Together, you embraced the raw, unspoken connection that only time apart could forge, each sensation magnified by the profound relief of being entwined once more. In the cascade of emotions and sensations, you found solace, finally at peace in the arms of the man you loved.

@sweeterthanpeachcobbler

[imagine-silk]

Can we get more yanderw Wanda headcanons pls?

She loves you with every fiber and weave of her body and mind, you have a place in her soul. But even if she wasn't a yandere she wouldn't know what to do with herself. She was an experiment taken as a child, she's never had the chance to have a crush. Now that she has one she does what she's seen from TV and the other Avengers. Dates, chance meetings, flowers and chocolate, holding hands, the works.

After meeting you in a deployment she's smitten and decides to find you. But when she does she doesn't know what to do. So she confides in the TV and sees the age old 'love at first sight'. It's not hard to find you and 'bump' into you. (She doesn't have the courage to actually touch you so she just 'happens' upon you)

The chances you, a civilian, know exactly who she is is extremely unlikely. She'll tell you she's a superhero freely but a normal person doesn't really care. (Let's be real, if superheroes were normal they wouldn't be novel, they'd be celebrities at best) Because you don't know, shit will happen around you and you don't fully know it's her. Every burst of emotion she has is quickly followed by destruction. Kiss her and someone's phone will break. Hold her hand and a pothole will open. On the flip side, if you make her sad it's devastation. Where you run into your ex they're wiped from existence very quickly. If you were on good terms she asks you if she's your type. For the love of God say 'yes'.

Her violence is completely and utterly out of hand and always towards someone she doesn't know how to deal with. Sure, wiping your friend is easy but if Tony was the one to have something to say she wouldn't. Tony sees what's happening and knows where it can go but he chooses the path of least resistance. If you stay with her she's not going to have a civil war with him. The last thing he wants is a repeat of what happened with Cap.

She doesn't consider her stalking, stalking. She's just checking in on you and chickening out or wants to know what you're doing. No, she's not doing anything wrong. And now she knows what to bring up the next time you meet up. You like this highly specific thing? Wow that's so interesting. She was just looking into that.

Her goal is to be the perfect girlfriend. If she has to move time and space to do it that's fine by her.

[vampiradelmal]

the ultimatum had been expected for years, but it didn’t soften the blow. silence at the dinner table after long deployments was all to common, and honestly price preferred it. a silent moment away from the war.

but he knew his wife yearned for more. something else, something more. something the other women her age had… silence was peaceful, but the loneliness began to suffocate.

trading the silence with little pitter patters of tiny feet and giggling, playing in the front yard, and being something more than just a captain’s wife.

when they had gotten married, there was great promises of a big family. children and a big wonderful home of their own.

it wasn’t long after the marriage began that price found comfort elsewhere. the british SAS took over his priorities, casting the missus aside. climbing the ranks of greatness he hardly even noticed his wife.

she just kept getting older and older and older. and the want for something more kept getting higher and higher.

it was painful. it ached in every fiber of her being knowing she was last place. at the bottom of the priority list was mrs. price who was always left wanting more.

“it’s me or the force, john. i can’t do it anymore… i can’t. i just can’t. i’m sorry”

i wrote this very sleepy with a headache. and didn’t proofread.