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thesilmarillionblog · 4 days

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𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 9

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18!(MINORS DNI), heavy angst, hurt, male masturbation, language, Soldier Boy is an asshole, PTSD, mention of drugs, mention of torture

Word Count: 4290

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Ben's chest began to feel colder beneath your fingertips, and the intense glow gradually subsided. Ben continued to stare at you in a way that defied explanation. It amazed you both that you were able to prevent the dangerous warmth in his chest, or perhaps he was controlling it subconsciously. But you knew you were the one who diverted his attention. While the heat beneath his body seemed under control, one of his gloved hands held yours on his chest, giving you an intimate look.

You muttered, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. “What happened to you?” Until you were certain he was indeed alright, you ignored the firm grip he had on your hand. You realized that he was probably not the one who intentionally exploded New York and that there was something very wrong with him.

“Well, baby, I'm not sure.” He gently put his palm closer to yours and remarked, “It's probably just a side effect of the things that happened to me in that fucking lab in Russia.”

You persisted by stating, “This looks dangerous, Ben,” despite his attempts to downplay his predicament and his continuous holding of your hands as if you were going to push him at any moment. “You might continue harming innocent people if you don't find a way to stop.”

Ben felt a wave of uneasiness pass over him, and his fingers tightened around yours. Because he was unsure of how to use his newfound abilities, he felt like a freshly empowered teenager, and you treated him as though you were a parent cautioning a careless youngster, which disturbed him and caused a sense of insecurity to take over.

“It's not a big deal,” Ben muttered in a harsh voice, trying to give the impression that he was stronger than this—even though at the moment he didn't feel like it. “As you can see, nothing happened. I suppose you were able to handle this for me in some way.”

You pushed his hands away and withdrew immediately when you verified that his body temperature had returned to normal. Ben scowled at the fact that, in contrast to him, you weren't very excited to be near since you two met again, but he felt as though his body would explode if he didn't get to touch you right away. His balls felt particularly heavy under his supe suit, and he didn't jerk off

for days—actually, years. Maybe you just needed to be alone with him to make a step.

“I think it's best that we remain together for the time being,” you stated in a serious tone. “Ben, it won't be good if you blow up again and can't control yourself.”

When you finally agreed to stay with Ben, he felt a sense of satisfaction that kept him smiling nefariously. He reasoned that maybe his newfound abilities weren't all that useless after all.

Ben grinned slyly and replied, “Course, sweetheart, since you're persisting in being with me that much. It would be better if I didn't stay alone.”

As he scanned your upper body expectantly and dismissed the situation with humor, you rolled your eyes.

“I believe there's a problem with his powers,” you turned to Butcher after you pushed Ben aside before he trapped you again and you sat down on the coach. “It is better if I stay with him.”

“If that's what you want, of course. Because of the situation going on in his chest, his ass gave us all enough trouble.”

Sitting on a coach with a coke in his hands, Ben followed you while you had a small talk with Butcher, his jaw clenching with jealousy, but he didn’t say a thing to make you feel uncomfortable.

Ben said, “It's not a big deal,” with an unkind glare in Butcher's direction.

Butcher said irritably, “It might not be for you, but it's a fucking big deal for us and all the people out there. In addition, I was wondering if the two of you could convince your former buddies to kill Homelander.”

“What?” you exclaimed, stunned. He spoke as though your guys had not always held hostility toward Ben. When he abruptly vanished, they most likely celebrated his absence. “Why do you believe they would offer Ben any kind of support at all? Everyone despised him.”

“Are you able to track them down?” Ben asked abruptly.

“They would hate to see you,” you murmured, your eyes widening in disbelief.

“When I find them, they fucking better piss in their suits,” Ben stated in a stern tone. “Noir will be the first person I'll fucking slaughter out of all of them.”

You cut him off, glaring at him, saying, “You stay away from Earving. You caused enough suffering for them all.”

“Why do you defend those who betray pathetic losers with such devotion?”

Since you've already been through a lot, Ben tried not to lose his temper when he was speaking with you, but he couldn't help but become enraged when he saw you standing up for betraying shitheads over him. He had great intentions for the two of you and was the only one who truly cared about you.

“Not them, Ben, but Vought was the one who betrayed both of us.”

You sighed and tried to seem empathetic and nice so as not to get on Ben's nerves too much because his new powers were already causing difficulties.

“Where were Noir or others when you were in that lab while the doctors were torturing you?” Ben pointed a finger in your face and demanded furiously. “You continue to defend those bitches against me, even though I am the only one who fucking saved you.”

“Ben, I won't argue with you.” With a wink, you teased him, saying, “You seem too sensitive for a proper conversation right now.”

Ben responded, “You are not making me angry, sweetie,” glancing at your body as your smile vanished and your cheeks turned crimson. “I want to take my meat off and jerk off at the moment because of you.”

Butcher replied, “Not on my fucking coach,” as you crossed your arms over your chest and averted your gaze from Ben's keen gaze.

Ben stated, “You tell me,” in a serious manner. “Where am I going to spend a week with Y/N?”

Ben was kind of relieved that he and you were both saved, even though he had not trusted Butcher and the others at all. He would have the opportunity to express how much he missed you in every way and would definitely help you start a second time by spending an entire week with you. You could speak, fuck, and do all of that for an entire week.

Feeling his balls getting tighter under his suit, he shifted on the coach, thinking of you in nasty positions, just like in the good old days.

“The location is arranged. Despite the little place to stay, I believe the two of you can get by for a week without needing any extra care.”

“What about Homelander?” Ben confidently inquired, widening his legs and placing his arm up to the coach, his hardness visible through his supe suit.

He saw you glancing at him and smiling mischievously. You wanted to say something offensive, but you knew that he was utterly without shame right then and there and that he would say something nasty as soon as you talked about his bulge.

Butcher sighed. “He's probably scared the shit out of his pants. Let's give him and you two a short break until the thing that happened in New York and Ohio is forgotten completely.”

You said, uncomfortable, “I don't think it will ever be forgotten, Butcher. Vought will try their hardest to capture us once more since the harm is too immense. They may even be looking for us at this very moment.”

It concerned you that Vought wouldn't just let you and Ben live on your own, unaccountably. It was not what you wanted to return to the lab to be tormented and examined for the future of other supes. But you had no idea how to get out of this difficult dilemma. Ben and the rest of Butcher's squad were not people you would trust with your life, so you realized you needed a plan to protect yourself from what was happening.

You also didn't want Ben to be tortured in Russia again like you were, but his main goal was to take revenge and murder Homelander. Despite never having laid eyes on the man, he was prepared to slaughter him. They would never allow Ben to touch Homelander if Vought was that supportive of him. That meant you had to first convince Ben to cease his collaboration with Butcher.

“People in the modern world are easy to forget, I promise you. Also, they could've already found you two if they had wanted to,” Butcher mumbled, trying to soothe you. “Remember, a week is full of possibilities, so try not to dwell on it too much. They won't remember for very long, and Vought is currently dealing with its own issues.”

When Ben realized how terrified you were of having to deal with the fallout from his actions and everything that transpired, his heart began to melt with regret. He was aware of your constant need for a house, a place where you could feel secure and at home, so it disturbed you to know that you had nowhere to go while Vought looked for you and that you might fall prisoner once more.

Ben understood that it was his responsibility as a man to ensure that you were protected and to keep you away from danger. You needed to spend time together before he could help you forget the unpleasant and harsh things he had done to you. He intended to start over with you, and whatever happened was all in the past. Homelander and Vought weren't that big of a concern, and things would be considerably simpler if he learned to use his new abilities. You were needed by him for both.

You leaned back toward the coach and questioned, curiously, “Why do you want to kill Homelander that much?” placing one hand under your head.

Butcher's heart clenched as a mixture of regret and affection overtook his body as his thoughts were filled with Becca's memories. Not that he even knew if he would survive.

He quickly cleared his throat and replied, “He hurt my wife,” cutting it short.

You understood, judging by her voice, that she had passed away, and you were at a loss for words. Homelander must be Vought's newest evil toy, as they have a history of hurting people and getting away with it. Somehow, you wanted to soothe Butcher, but all you said was, “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Butcher turned to face you, perhaps trying to persuade you, saying, “She is not the only one he hurt and won't be the last. He must die.”

“Even if he dies and you take your revenge, there will always be a new one, and you know this,” you insisted. “When it came to supes, Vought always had a backup plan. In the same way that they treated Ben and me. Not even the power worries them. All they want is a toy that they can play with that is practical as well as obeyant.”

“And they'll fucking pay for it,” Ben exclaimed with hatred.

“Ben, this is not going to end well for us. We are unable simply to overthrow the government or whomever in charge.”

“We'll see about that, sweetheart.”

You sighed, realizing that Ben had already made up his mind and that you two would have to talk about it at another time. He would hurt you once more if he carried on acting recklessly, but based on his actions, it didn't appear like he gave a damn. Even though you knew he was always self-centered, you were disappointed to find that he didn't give a damn about what would happen to you if he kept acting like an enemy of the state.

“Everyone had been told that you were a traitor and that you would be placed in a lab to be tested for potential superpowers. How were you treated by them? What did they do to you?” Frenchie narrowed his eyes and asked with curiosity.

You moved in the coach, pushing back the images in your head as you recalled the horrible memories. But you didn't let others see you as powerless or fragile.

You wanted to smile at him, but the traumatic images were just too overwhelming.

“I guess they kind of wanted to take off my womb to create a natural supe baby, but they simply couldn't as they couldn't go through my skin with their needles and everything,” you said.

While Frenchie was obviously at a loss for words while attempting to comprehend the years of agony you had endured, his face turned white.

Ben tried to dismiss the images in his mind, which ranged from vicious hands on you to someone trying to rip your body apart and kill you, while his heart was filled with hate and fury. He vowed to kill anyone who even slightly assisted in your torture, regardless of whether they were Homelander or Vought.

“Every single of them will die,” he declared with assurance, as if guaranteeing you, his compassionate green eyes locked on yours. “I promise it to you.”

You were briefly stunned, speechless, by the intense expression on his face, but you soon gathered yourself and joked, “It's better if you just do nothing,” attempting to break off the seriousness of the moment.

After glancing at the supe woman next to him, Frenchie remarked, “It's getting late. Will they be staying here tonight?” He asked Butcher.

Butcher grumbled as he looked at his watch. “Yes, this is where we'll all spend the night. There are probably enough rooms for them.”

“How about Annie and Hughie?” Frenchie asked again, observing the supe woman make her way to the nearest room; she seemed weary and exhausted.

She said nothing since you entered the house, which confused you. Although you were eager to start up a conversation with the new supe women, it's possible that she felt unsafe in the same room as Ben. It wouldn't surprise you. Even though you felt a little uncomfortable, you decided to try talking to her later. They might realize that you were no different from them in this situation if they truly wanted to take down Homelander's tyranny and those people weren't supporting the Vought like you were.

“They'll stay too,” Butcher cut it short.

Frenchie shot you a hesitant glance as his hand ran through the top of his head. “Is it possible for you and your friend to share a room? It seems like Annie and Hughie appear to be staying. There would be enough rooms if they didn't.”

“Yeah,” Ben responded abruptly, getting up before you could reply. As it turned out, you just gave Frenchie a brief nod.

Butcher responded, “Perfect,” and stood up. “Good night, ladies.”

You thanked Frenchie when he showed you the room you'll be staying with Ben and took a quick look at the cramped, dim room filled with old pieces of furniture.

Ben slowly unfastened his belt while he observed you searching inside the wardrobe for something to wear. His blood had been burning in his veins for an hour now, and he just wouldn't stop coming toward you. He was about to go crazy from his desire to touch you. You were alone for the first time in a very long time, so it's been a fucking long time since you've fucked properly. Ben's balls hurt from missing your gentle moans and seeing you beneath his body. You were finally alone to speak, fuck, and discuss things tonight about your future and all.

You turned your back to Ben to change after finding a pink t-shirt. Just after removing it, anxiety and the chill in the room caused your nipples to harden, and you felt Ben's eyes on your back.

Ben turned you quickly, crushed his warm lips on yours, and began to kiss you frantically before you had even put on your shirt. He was moving too fast for you to react, and you were too shocked and perplexed to do anything. He urged you to kiss him back by pushing your back against the bed and climbing on top of you, aggressively using his tongue in your mouth. The moment the chilly material of his suit touched your bare chest, you shivered.

Ben kept kissing you, getting lost in his pleasure, not able to understand if you were responding to him or not. His hardness was hurting beneath his supe suit. He put his hands around one of your tits and gave it a firm squeeze, pressing his shaft firmly between your legs.

You were in shock at how quickly everything was escalating. Only when you heard Ben unzipping his pants as his mouth filled yours with low growling did you come to your senses.

You stopped his tough hands from reaching your underwear and saved your burning lips from his. As you struggled to catch your breath, his lips slid quickly over your body, finding one of your nipples and aggressively sucking it until you forgot how to breathe.

You finally managed to say, “Ben,” in a trembling voice. “Stop it.”

When you forced his mouth away from your tits, he continued to press his firm shaft between your legs. He irritably asked, “What the fuck? It's been fucking so long.”

Ben placed his strong arms over your head and stared at your nipples that were covered with his spit through darkened eyes for a long moment until you finally gasped out and exclaimed, “I can't fucking believe you.”

“What now?” he asked, speaking as though nothing was wrong between you and that everything was normal.

“Are you a fucking rabbit in heat?”

He questioned incredulously, “Why are you so mad?” as he continued to delicately rub against your pussy with his shaft through your sweatpants.

“Ben, it has been practically decades since our breakup. We didn't even end our relationship properly because you remained silent and basically cheated on me by dating Crimson.”

Ben frowned as you mentioned the past, stopping his motions on you and trying to maintain his composure.

He just stated “We can talk about such things later,” sounding displeased to hearing his relationship with the Countess. “Let us get off some steam first.”

You whispered, “No,” and used all of your effort to push him away from you. “There is nothing left to talk.”

Ben watched your tits disappear from sight while you took the pink t-shirt he threw onto the floor, and you hastily took it on from your head with trembling hands. As soon as you moved away from him, he eventually stood up.

“It's all in the past now,” he remarked, regretfully glancing at your fragile appearance. “We can fuck first and then talk it out.”

“I don't want you to ever touch me again.” You were enraged at how he continued to neglect everything else in favor of only wanting to fuck you and added, “I mean it.”

Ben said, “I know you don't mean this,” as he approached you with confidence. “You and I both have the same desires for this. We both want each other so badly. The way your body reacts to me even now makes it very clear to me.”

You glared at him angrily and ignored his idiotic, enormous ego, saying, “I don't want you in my life ever again.”

He touched your arms and asked, his voice annoyed, “Why have you suddenly gotten angry?”

Observing his continued blindness to you, you sighed. Though it didn't seem to be as essential as you anticipated for him, you hoped that at least he talked about all that happened. But he was the same selfish man who acted like he cared about you, then betrayed you and hurt you. There was no need to make your hopes up.

You said with an irritated tone, “I can't believe I'm so blind when it comes to you. You don't even care how much you cause me pain in every way possible, and all you want is to have fun. Am I just a fucking toy for you to play with as you like it?”

Ben abruptly interrupted you, saying in a serious tone, “Of course not,” as his powerful arms moved slowly over your shoulders. “I want to discuss and work out everything that went wrong between us. I simply..missed you so much.”

Even though you wanted to believe his sincerity, you felt nothing at all moved by it. It was difficult for you to believe him at all since he had so many lies to tell you and so much sorrow in his words. It was difficult for you to remember the joyful emotions you had for him in the past, but though you tried to recall the wonderful times you had together, they felt like memories belonging to someone else now. Something had died in your heart for him.

You softly pulled his hands off your arms and murmured in a solemn tone, “I wish I could believe you, but I don't.”

His voice was low as he questioned, “What do you mean?”

With a heavy heart, you stated, “Everything that happened between us is in the past. It is no longer there. You only want me by your side now because I was faithful to you the day I came to help you, even though you have really hurt me.”

Although it was difficult to acknowledge his selfishness, it was best to face the facts straight away and prevent him from hurting or abusing you in the future.

“It's not like that,” Ben cut you off right away in a harsh voice.

He felt confused, not knowing how to convince you of his seriousness. You were right to hold such low expectations of him; he would not deny it, but he also understood that nothing would change if you hadn't been there to save him that day.

You said, “I'm tired, Ben,” indicating that you didn't want to talk about it more. “I really need to sleep.”

He let it go and sighed, realizing you weren't all that keen on talking at the moment. After all, this was your first day in the modern world, so it was understandable that you were a little lost.

Ben muttered, “Okay, but this isn't the end. We'll discuss it afterwards. For now, you take a rest.”

As he watched you turn your back on him and slip under the sheets, you remained silent. Ben began removing his supe suit with a growl. The way you felt excited and moist at his slight touch told him you didn't mean any of it. He knew that you were nonetheless deeply in love with him. Every part of his body

felt the presence of it. However, he realized that before he fucked you, he had to convince you that he cared about you.

He went into the bathroom, growling angrily as he felt his bulge kicking his suit. Ben could finally touch himself because you were safe now. Knowing that you would find out what he was doing in the bathroom caused his lips to twist into a smile.

You tried to fall asleep, shifting on the bed to a more comfortable position as you heard Ben turn on the water. But as soon as you closed your eyes, you heard him growling low as he stroked himself under the water. He was touching himself furiously because he knew you would hear anything he was doing, even if you weren't trying to listen.

Ben was moaning your name and moving faster as you cursed your supe hearing. As you moved into the bed, your cheeks flushed, yet you kept quiet.

Ben noticed that you were pressing your legs together as though your body were trying to find relief, so he growled and beat his cock more.

Feeling closer, he passionately exclaimed, “Fucking touch yourself. I fucking missed you and your little pussy so much.”

As he continued to talk dirty about how hard he would fuck and how many times he would come inside of you if you let him, your cheeks grew red, and you finally muttered, “Stop it.”

He trembled and whispered while wet sounds filled the bathroom, “Almost there, sweetheart,” as if hearing your voice were to give him pleasure.

Ben groaned and began to cum while murmuring your name. Your walls were tightening around nothing, and even though your body was screaming for you to touch yourself, you ignored the aching between your legs as he kept spilling his thick white ropes in between his powerful strokes that filled the bathroom. It took him long to empty his heavy balls. It was only when he let out a satisfied moan that you realized you were holding your breath.

Ben knew you still cared and desired him as much as he did, and he would fucking do everything to show to you that you and he were meant to be together.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! -`♡´-

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynew @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909 @stoneyggirl2 @cheynovak @libby99hb @moneyburner @jenn-777q

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

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rjzimmerman · 28 days

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Excerpt from the Substack Distilled:

In the last few months, the Biden administration has quietly passed multiple federal policies that will transform the United States economy and wipe out billions of tons of future greenhouse gas emissions.

The new policies have received little attention outside of wonky climate circles. And that is a problem.

Earlier this year, I wrote that Biden has done more to mitigate climate change than any President before him. For decades, environmentalists tried and failed to convince lawmakers to pass even the most marginal climate policies. It wasn’t until Biden took office that the logjam broke and the climate policies flowed. And yet few American voters are hearing this story in an election year of huge consequence.

It’s been two and a half months since I wrote that article. In that short time, the Biden administration has passed a handful of climate policies that will collectively cut more than 10 billion tons of planet-warming pollution over the next three decades, more than the annual emissions of India, Russia, Japan, South Korea, Canada, Saudi Arabia, and the entire continent of Europe—combined.

One climate policy that flew under the radar recently was the administration's latest energy efficiency rule, unveiled at the beginning of May. The new rules will reduce the amount of energy that water heaters use by encouraging manufacturers to sell models with more efficient heat pump technology. The new regulation is expected to save more energy than any federal regulation in history.

Most people give little thought to how the water in their homes is heated, but water heaters are the second-largest consumer of energy in the average American home and one of the largest sources of climate pollution in the country.

A few days before the administration announced its water heater efficiency rules, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) announced another sweeping policy.

According to the new rules, existing coal power plants will need to either shut down or install carbon capture technology capable of removing 90% of their carbon pollution. The policy will also require any new natural gas power plants that provide baseload power—the ones that run throughout the day and night, as opposed to the peaker plants that only run for a small fraction of hours in the year—to install carbon capture technology.

The new power sector rules are effectively a death blow to coal power in America, which has slowly faded over the last two decades but still emits more carbon emissions than almost every country in the world.

The water heater rules and power plant regulations will help the country meet its goal of cutting emissions by 50% by 2030. But impactful as they will be, they weren’t the most important climate policy that the Biden administration passed in the last two months.

That honor goes to the EPA’s tailpipe rules, which are set to transform the auto industry over the next decade.

Today the transportation sector is the largest source of climate pollution in the United States. Within the sector, passenger cars and trucks are the biggest contributors to emissions. While electric vehicle adoption has grown in recent years, America lags behind many other countries in decarbonizing its vehicle stock.

The EPA’s new rules will force automakers to reduce the amount of pollution and carbon emissions that come from their vehicles. The federal policy doesn’t specifically mandate that automakers produce EVs or stop selling gas-powered cars but instead regulates the average carbon emissions per mile of a manufacturer's entire fleet over the next decade. That means automakers can still sell gas-guzzling, carbon-spewing trucks in 2035. They’ll just need to sell a lot more EVs or plug-in hybrids to bring their average fleet emissions down if they do.

Like the power plant rules, the EPA’s new auto regulations are designed to avoid being thrown out by a conservative and hostile Supreme Court.

#President Biden #climate action

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

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CAKE FOR A DEAD MAN (I)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER II

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: Angst, problems with food & image, mentions of stalking, unwanted gifts, death, violence, gore, blood, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Color, as most would say, is one of the best aspects of sight. It allows such a myriad of emotions to be expressed—even felt. Red reminds us of passion; navy for elegance and a certain mystique. Not only seen but processed on such a deeper level. Refractions of light that explode into the retina, rod and cone cells that send signals to the brain to help detect that phenomenon like a gift of evolution.

But when you can’t see any of that—color—who’s to explain what the red of the roses actually looks like above a deep shade of gray? That navy blue looks even darker, too. Closer to black. Light purple becomes the same hue as the curtains your mother hangs on the windows, but you can’t tell if that’s really purple or not. How can it be anything other than slate? People tell you it is…at least, those who’ve already met their partners. Their soulmates.

But there’s little hope for you on that front, really.

You wave to the photographer, calling out a broken Russian goodbye as he smiles warmly at you, nodding his head in your direction before watching you walk out of the studio room’s doors. A large gaggle of other finely-clad women surrounds you on the way to the changing rooms.

Even with three-and-a-half years of living in this northern country, your mastery of the native language starts and ends with simple pleasantries.

The modeling agency was packed today and you still had so much to do. You stuff down your internal list of scheduled fittings, meetings, and more booked photoshoots that extend into the chilled evening of Yekaterinburg, Russia. There was just so little time.

Gray hallways and white overhead lights meet your eyes between blinks, potted plants boring and drab. If you could see the shades in between the leaves you’d know you would find them beautiful, but like this…well, they’re just sad.

You shake your head and shuffle to the back of the group, throwing tiny smiles to the kind, and stunning, women who you’ve had little real conversation with. One kisses you on the cheek and pats your shoulder, and you laugh brightly before pulling to the rear, face heating.

“The bastard is finally dead!” The familiar voice causes you to freeze with one heeled foot in the air—fingers picking at the strap of your silk dress absentmindedly before it, too, stills. They were always forcing you into silk with feathered accent pieces of intricate detail. Like a bird, or, Seraph, more precisely.

Blinking in surprise, you turn around just in time to lock onto the drained shades that make up Alyona Arkadyevna Solovyova before she grips your shoulders harshly.

Her collarbone-length hair swishes heavily, but it’s not as violent as the smile on her sharp face.

“Finally, little Солнышко! This is perfect news. The bastard is dead!” Alyona’s English is very good, and of course, it would be—when she was younger she dreamed of being an English teacher. That was before she realized she was just about the most attractive woman of her generation. The harsh Russian accent still bleeds through.

You laugh and grip her long, pale, arms; seeing her in a blouse and pencil skirt as you tilt your head, asking, “Christ, Alyona, give me a warning next time. If I rip anything I’m in deep shit.”

“Gah,” Your friend waves a hand and releases you, tiny eyes creasing, “forget about that—did you not hear me the first time? My father, Seraph, listen to me! He is finally dead! It happened just this morning but I only got word ten minutes ago.” She laughs, throwing her hands up, and you hide your amused exasperation, limbs tired but it won’t stop you from appreciating your friend’s enthusiasm. Alyona squeals, “A train hit him!”

You cringe internally, face pulling taunt. “Oh,” your chest sputters as you clear your throat, “that’s, uh, that’s…great?”

“Of course it is!” Hands capture your cheeks, squishing as you worry about the state of your makeup. Alyona speaks brightly, “We need to celebrate, Солнышко. Come.”

Before you can protest she’s dragging you away from the other women and the direction of the changing rooms, all had stopped and were listening intently from behind; nosey. Everyone in the Allurement Modeling Agency building, AMA for short, just had that way about them—your business was their business and vice versa.

And Alyona had no problem airing out her grievances with her estranged father to the choir. She lived for drama.

“Aly,” You huff a soft breath at her and her bobbing hair. She said it was blonde and you had no other option but to believe her. Not yellow-blonde, she had specified. Ice-blonde. “I can’t go out in company property. Plus, I have a photoshoot for Chanel in under an hour. The photographer needs me to be ready.”

But it seems your concerns fall on deaf ears and you can’t help but chuckle and grin at your friend's lack of care about work. She herself was a model, but the entire company halted when she said it should.

You were truly surprised they hadn’t fired her yet.

“And I’m sure Chanel has an absolutely hideous dress for you, my Seraph.” Ashen eyes turn back to stare at you, and once she realizes you wouldn’t fight her, her grip releases. “Some Медовик will do you good before the vultures close in, yes? Let us hope they don’t shackle you to those damning lace lingerie sets over cake.”

Your head tilts with a short sigh, and you walk beside the woman in your clacking heels. The sound of the authentic honey cake seemed to itself to coat your insides with a lust for it—dripping layers of plush gray sponge with pale cream. Your mouth waters.

“I’m only eating half a piece.” You settle slowly, though you hate your own words as your stomach rolls with hunger. Some time outside will do you good, anyway. Perhaps you’ll learn to photosynthesize like a plant. “I still have to be able to fit into those fabric contraptions, you know.”

Alyona squeals and loops her arm in yours easily, bright teeth in a grin like a cat. Ever one to run into objects and lacking a general ability to walk in a straight line, the support from Alyona was much appreciated. Her help with lending an arm went far, especially for you.

Your heart warms with soft care.

“I’ll take it! We can split one.” When you both make it to the front of the building, having grabbed your jackets and purses on the way there, you come to three familiar faces while chatting with Alyona about both of your upcoming bookings.

“I was under the impression you had the day filled,” Petya speaks, heavy accent like stone. The clean-shaven man in his late thirties was built and wearing a dark suit, the tallest out of the other two—Aleksandr and Yefim—who both wear similar outfits. They were resting in the front seating area of AMA as they’d been doing for weeks already, waiting for you to come and go like escorts.

Well, bodyguards, to be more precise. Yours.

You smile politely to them while Yefim sends one back with his boyish charm and dimples. “On break. We’re off to get some Medovik down the street. I can pay for you if you’d want a piece.”

“Of course, the three will have to tag along, hm?” Alyona huffs, staring blandly as you both slow to a stop near the large white entrance, colored as if it was Heaven’s gates. Your friend had said coloring around this building was rare. Whites and grays. Green chairs, apparently. “I’m just ecstatic.”

Petya didn’t like you, and, you assumed, Aleksandr didn’t either. With the ladder, his sharp face was always too blank to tell; body tight and unwelcoming with weasel-like eyes. Petya was simpler, blatantly more outward with his distaste.

“Not a smart idea. This isn’t a game to play, девушка.” Alyona’s face tightens, and you swiftly placate her with a squeeze to her bicep. You level Petya with a tilt of your head and a calm look.

“What harm could a bite to eat do? It won’t cost you your life.” You chuckle smoothly. “Let me get you all something—it’s nearly noon, I’m sure you’re all hungry.”

“I could eat,” Yefim eases in, hands resting in his pockets as he stares at you. His accent was calmer than the others, and his face softer. Out of all of them, you liked him best.

Your eyes rest on Yefim with a thankful expression. He smirks and nods. Aleksandr, as always, says nothing beyond a small scoff and a look around the room with shifting feet.

When the tallest of the group does nothing to push back his sneer and heavy glare, you hum under your breath as you expect the words before they rush from his sharp mouth.

“I will have to speak to your mother about this.” The accent makes him sound so stiff—like a statue. A man built up of gravel and snow; concrete in his veins instead of blood.

“Oh, yes,” Alyona mutters, “the Consul herself.”

Your nose moves in a sigh, but you ease the situation with a simple, “Do whatever you need to, Petya. I know it’s your job and I’m thankful regardless, but we’ll be back in less than an hour. It’s no big deal.” You pause, plastering on an innocent look. “We’re hungry.”

For whatever reason you always envisioned Petya with dark eyes—blacks more deep than the clothes they put Alyona in to off-set your given whites when you two are fitted together. But the man’s eyes were so painfully light it made you not want to stare into them.

Petya grunts and continues to glare, working his jaw. After a moment he lets off a large huff and shakes his head in disapproval.

“Half-an-hour. No more.”

Alyona manhandles you out the door quickly, growling, “I do not know how you can stand this, Seraph. Bullshit, all of it.”

“It’s only until everything goes back to normal,” you reason, hearing three sets of footsteps behind you as the guards follow into the chilled air of Yekaterinburg. There was no reason to take a car, everything was within walking distance of one another in this dense city populated by over one million people. “My mother’s worried is all. I’m not going to make their lives harder while they’re only doing what they’re told to do.”

Light eyes dart to your face, your friend’s hand guiding you along the concrete with a dim concern. “I do not like all of this, Солнышко. It’s been months…Are the gifts still coming?”

Your expression tightens, lips going stiff. Alyona notices and changes the subject for now.

“Ah, but what am I doing—I’m ruining the celebration! Come, come, we will talk about my engagement to Nikifor while we eat.”

Nikifor, her soulmate. The one who brought her color and music with his performance at a nightclub two years ago; the only thing standing in the way of their marriage was Alyona’s strict father. Something about the man wanting someone with higher standing than a musician for his famous daughter.

“How is he?” You ask, blinking away the thought of finally being able to see color for the first time and how that must feel. A piece of you would always be envious of that.

Alyona must have blushed because she always tilts her nose lower when she does. You smile and chuckle under your breath.

“Wonderful,” is all she offers, but the giddy grin on her lips is knowledge enough.

You both make it to the small bakery at the end of the long street, heels clicking and cheeks chilled. People had turned to look at you, gaping at the two models still in their expensive clothes and attempting to take pictures on their phones. All were strong-armed by the three men close behind you who bark things in Russian.

Alyona opens the door of the bakery for you and you accidentally knock your shoulder into the frame, giving a sheepish smile before carefully walking to your regular corner table. Your tall friend goes to order while you take your seat with a sigh, Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim all shuffling in and sending glances to you; looking over the interior with sharp and calculating eyes.

It’s like they think the sky’s going to fall, you surmise, twitching your lips their way. They’ve been here before with me, do they still not trust it?

Back when things had been less serious they’d allowed you to go where you wished with them—parks, for walks, stores—now it was only work and home. As if you didn’t already feel so trapped.

“You boys can pick what you want,” you call to them softly. “My treat.”

“On the job,” is all Petya grunts before he takes his normal seat at the table closest to the door; everything in his bright sight. Your hand lightly tightens on the table, but you keep your expression placid.

You’d tried to get him to lighten up, Aleksandr too, but the two weren’t as open to you as Yefim. There was a blatant distrust of Westerners here, even if you had given up your citizenship to move where your mother works in the Consulate building of this very city.

While she was still employed by the American government, that didn’t stand in any sense with you. But on top of you being a famous model, your mother was well-known, regardless, and that ultimately fell back on you.

Yefim’s gray eyes flickered to a case of Bird Milk Cake with a hidden longing as he grasped the back of his chair and slid into it—floorboards creaking loudly. You notice and chuckle under your breath, cheeks heating at the sight as the man’s gaze moves to you and blinks in surprise. He quickly averts his gaze and clears his throat, fixing the collar of his dress shirt.

You’d buy him a piece before you left; maybe kiss his cheek just to see him go all blurry-eyed. He certainly was adorable.

“The baker’s boy is staring again,” Alyona’s voice snaps into your head, and you peer at your friend’s face, startled.

“What?” You ask as a plate is set in the middle of the table holding a single piece of Medovik. Your mouth fills with saliva, fingers immediately moving like a starved dog to grab a fork and cut into the layers; you shovel it into your mouth before you hiss to pace yourself.

You chew slowly, swallow, and give Alyona a confused look.

She slides you an unimpressed frown. “The boy. At the front.”

“He’s probably gaping at you,” you take another bite, rubbing at your cheek with your free hand as people walking by the front window peek in with wide eyes; your men glare and move their chairs as the ground squeaks again.

Your friend scoffs and mutters in Russian, shaking her head. Her hand waves quickly, barking, “Look!”

Rolling your eyes with a small smile, you look over and dab your face with a napkin before you get locked into a staring match with the dark eyes of the man up-front.

He wears an apron, head a mess of curls, and his upper arms stained with flour. You blink and pause, wondering if…perhaps…A pause, a sickly hope in your chest…but nothing happens and the contact is broken when he ducks his head before looking at the counter.

Gritting your teeth, you focus back on your cake and shove aside the sinking feeling in your chest.

Idiot, you criticize yourself. Now why would you think that would work?

“Nothing, then?” Alyona clicks her tongue and takes up her own fork. “Do not fret, we will find him eventually, Seraph.”

“It’s not like I would know.” The air goes a temperature warmer—bodies stilling.

While soulmate colorblindness was simply the reality of life, diagnosed colorblindness was still a curse that couldn’t be solved. If you ever saw your soulmate…you wouldn’t even know it.

All because of that stupid accident.

You act unbothered by the shift in the conversation and sigh. “You said you wanted to talk about your engagement,” your words remind the woman and she sets off into a tangent about the dress and the location after a moment of quiet concern. A church, she explained, the big one down the road where they’ll be a few days after the civil ceremony and the outer city venue.

Alyona is only twenty, but you know that it’s incredibly common here to get married this early. Listening, you offer input here and there, but as it always does, the topic falls back to you as you eat the slice of cake dedicated to a dead man.

Your knife-driven problem.

The gifts.

Already, you begin feeling uncomfortable.

“Aly,” you try to grumble, resisting the urge to eat the entire piece of Медовик as you put your utensil down. Your hand jerks over the table and you glare down at it in annoyance, ignoring the tensed nerves. “It’s not important—”

“How many more pieces of jewelry has he sent, hm? Letters?” The woman shivers and rubs at her arms. “It is horrendous behavior. Total fuck-up. And the fact that no one has caught him? Gah!”

Your spine straightens itself, eyes sliding to the people gawking outside the window and seeing the multiple faces, shuffling bodies that pile next to each other like sardines in a can.

“I just don’t want to think about it, okay?” You shake your head, turning away as a pit forms in your gut; realizing the fragility of your psyche when you think about the fact that anyone outside could be the source of your problem. The stalker. “If it’s just the gifts I can deal with them—the letters I never even read. If I ignore it they’ll stop eventually. All of this can be one big bad dream.”

Your hand continues to shake on the table, not exactly in your realm of control just as the inability to walk in a straight line is. It was no wonder why they never let you do runway shows, you think sarcastically. You’d be stuck in a photographer’s room for the rest of your career.

Alyona pushes a strand of her hair out of her face.

“Seraph…you know it does not work like that.” Of course you did, but asking for help was never your strong suit. And your mother had already given you three well-trained bodyguards to escort you to and from work—that was more than enough protection.

When you think of the expensive parcels that had been dropped at AMA’s front desk you had to restrain the honey cake coming back up your gullet. All of them had been expensive; pieces you could afford on a model's pension but still wildly elegant to even touch much less own in multitude. Gold bracelets inlay with black opal and sapphire, necklaces with Tanzanite, and rings of ruby, your mother had told you this when you had brought them to her off of only seeing washed-out tones on your part.

You never showed anyone the letters; they lived in a lockbox under the bed in your apartment. Concerningly, lately the ‘presents’ had been losing the plot. Random bits of glass and shiny items—a slow deterioration but somehow even more scary.

Even the older women at the front desk were softening the usual sneers they wore when you walked in every day, no longer chiding you in Russian they know you can’t understand. The way they seemed pitiful rubbed you the wrong way.

You pull your jacket closer to you and rub a hand slowly along your thigh in a soothing gesture. Aly pulls her brows in.

“I want to help you, little Солнышко, but I don’t think this is something I can fix with my womanly charms.” Your lips release a snort, tiny chuckles hitting the air.

Alyona joins you before silence once again lapses.

“...Do you feel alright?” Your friend asks honestly. Worry was plain on her face.

You smile, but your lungs tighten in your chest while your heart acts like a dancer and lightly skips beats. “By next month,” your hand shakes over your thigh, “all of this will be in the past. No one could keep this up forever. I just have to…wait it out. It’s only the gifts, I can live with that—jewelry isn’t hurting anybody except his wallet.”

The woman narrows her eyes at you and frowns, but it’s not long before she goes back to her half of the Медовик and takes a bite with a moan of enjoyment. You rarely lied, so you supposed she had no trouble believing you.

If only you could fraud yourself like that.

“Quite a wealthy bastard, though, no?” Alyona slyly pokes fun and you blink quickly.

“Aly!”

“I am just saying!”

You press your hand to your lips to hide your loud laugh, Yefim looking over with a certain airiness to his expression before Aleksandr jerks his shoulder to face him back forward. The two glare at each other as Petya stares violently at the front door—daring those outside to try and come in and ask for a picture.

While you hadn’t come back to this bakery in a while, the three men always seemed to pick the exact same table; the one with the perfect view of everything going on near the door. While it was a small distance away, it allowed for quick action in any direction.

You blink away as the wooden boards under the bodyguards’ table creak again, loud enough to cause Alyona to frown in that direction. Petya sends an annoyed look down and scowls.

“How do you know he’s not just stealing them,” you bring back the conversation, smirking. “You know? Maybe he’s a,” your voice lowers an octave in fake secrecy and Aly’s eyes roll, amused, “jewel thief.”

“God above,” the woman huffs. “That would be the twist.”

The both of you joked and picked fun, but that half an hour went past quickly, and soon it was time to get back to the agency so you could change again. The photographer couldn’t take pictures of air and play it off as you with a smile and a nervous stutter.

As you stand you stare long at the cases of baked goods, licking the remnants of cream off your lips

“We can buy another, Seraph,” Aly suggests, fixing her coat. You shake your head immediately.

“No, no, I’ve already had enough sugar. I had two muffins for breakfast. Chocolate.” Your face pulls into a cringe at the words. “Cheat day.”

Alyona’s lips go tighter, but she says nothing as her hair is puffed out of her face. She out of everyone knows how demanding modeling can be—your entire life is dictated by two things: calories, and appointments.

You turn to Yefim with his wavy hair and his soft, dimpled, smile; casual eyes. Not your soulmate, based on his lack of reaction the first time you had met, but in that time you’d grown a tiny crush on the man, admittingly. He was kind and treated you with respect. Capable and reliable—how could you ask for more than that?

“Yefim?” Your voice calls out, a smile on your lips. The man looks over and blinks in surprise. He clears his throat, stuttering as he shifts in his seat. The wood tilts slightly under him and he steadies himself on the edge of the table.

“Да, Ma’am?”

Restraining a giggle, you cock your head as Alyona snorts.

“Do you want a slice of Bird Milk Cake?” Petya slides you a blank look and Aleksandr taps his fingers to the table. You poke fun, “For when you’re on break, of course.”

Yefim’s eyes sparkle in their colorless state, a handsome smile taking his lips back along his face. He makes a move to stand up, floorboards squealing loudly as weight is lessened.

“I would be in your debt—”

The world explodes into a slate-gray blaze of heat and hellfire.

Your body is thrown back before you can even begin to understand that you’re in danger, panic completely bypassed for a total blank sensation of confusion. Spine slapping into the glass of the window, your form is hurled by a vast boom out of the bakery entirely before it slams to the concrete multiple feet away.

You slide, rolling in a mess of limbs and ripped silk. For a good moment, you have no idea what just transpired, confusedly lifting your head from the ground and blinking below you as everything rings. Your hand grips the side of your head, the thick liquid seeping in between your fingers as you peel it back and look with shaky vision.

Blackened blood is coated along your palm, slipping along your wrist as you tilt your hand up in horrified uncertainty.

Everything comes back in a millisecond of screaming and running feet; like a switch being flipped. You snap your head back to what remains of the bakery as blood slides down your temple.

“A-Alyona?!” Heels sliding, you stand but stumble back down just as quickly, hands slapping against the ground as you raggedly cough more, chest burning from the force at which you’d been thrown.

What the hell had just happened? An explosion?

There was little left of the bakery beside the front door, smoke billowing out of the broken windows as gray flames spark with the familiar sound of burning material—a sharp burn is taken into your nostrils.

Dragging an arm forward, you grasp something warm and wet in an attempt to get up again. You look to the side and immediately scream at what you see.

Yefim’s upper body was completely fine besides the burns and the lack of his hair, the peeling flesh…it was the absence of the entire lower body that struck you with waves of horror. You slam a hand to your lips and wail, slipping back on kicking legs as tears well in your tear ducts.

Guts were leaking over the concrete, and the dark, gaping, wound spread a fast puddle out around the sputtering that made his chest look like it was moving. Eyes flutter, lashes flapping quickly.

He looked confused, and that was perhaps the worst part of it.

Yefim died only half a man, his entrails pooling out of his ribcage, only twenty seconds after you’d asked him if he wanted a piece of cake. Your fingers hide the loud sobs as you stare into this blank expression, hand shaking so bad that it hits your nose.

“I…I,” you stutter, shapes and flashes rushing back and forth at the sides of your vision. Pressure holds at your left shoulder.

“Seraph!” The sentence falls off into feminine Russian cursing and screaming, a grip shaking you back and forth, urging you to listen.

There are wails and the roar of cars, but you don’t have to be given a speech to know the truth about the toll as the fire burns hotter and the blood runs faster. Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim are dead. They had been sitting on top of something that had triggered when Yefim had released weight from it.

The creaky floorboards.

“Seraph!” Alyona tries again, grabbing you under the shoulders and dragging you away from the corpse as bystanders’ phones flash with pictures being taken. There’s just so much screaming. “Seraph, please, we need to move! The fire is spreading!”

They had been sitting right on top of it. But…but they always sat there…they…they were always…

In the corner of your eye, a dark phantom looms across the street as the first sirens of the police cars race down the road; a burning silhouette of black mist and ashen smoke.

As the bakery burns and the corpse of Yefim grows cold, it slips away into the forming crowd.

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cheynovak · 19 days

Text

Something fragile

Soldier Boy x F/Reader Y/N

Warnings: Toxic masculinity, cursing, violence, alcohol drug use, cursing, mentioning of sex, I think that’s it? ...

Side note: English isn’t my first language

Words: 6600

*Does not follow the boys storyline *

Soldier boy just got out of Russia thanks to the boys. But his journey back to reality has been fucked up. Streets are filled with rainbow colours and new pussy looking heroes. Streets were even more crowded, nothing seemed the same anymore. And to top it all off he had some severe ptsd and a new superpower.

After the explosion he ran to recover his blackout, meeting y/n a young woman on her way home from volunteering at the veteran shelter. Seeing how he looked confused, offering him help.

Ben, known to the world as Soldier Boy, stumbled through the bustling streets of downtown New York. The sun was blinding after so many years in the dark, cold confines of a Russian facility.

Forty years of captivity had left his mind in a haze, his body in a state of perpetual tension. Every sound, every face, was an assault on his senses. He blinked against the garish lights of electronic billboards and the incessant buzz of smartphones.

People moved past him in waves, their faces buried in glowing screens, oblivious to the world around them. Ben felt like he had stepped into a dream, a strange, incomprehensible dream. As he walked, his eyes darted from one unfamiliar sight to another.

Men holding hands, walking side by side with easy intimacy. Ben's lips curled into a reflexive sneer. He couldn't help it; the world he had known was gone, replaced by something that felt alien and uncomfortable.

The 1980s had their problems, but this? This was beyond his understanding. He rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the headache building behind his eyes. The memories of his captivity were like shadows, lurking at the edges of his mind, ready to pounce the moment he let his guard down. He had to stay focused, had to keep moving.

As he passed a café, the smell of coffee and pastries wafted out, mingling with the scents of car exhaust and city grime. Ben's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten a decent meal in ages. He paused, glancing around warily, wishing he had a few dollars in his pocket.

Lost in thought, a voice pulled his attention away from the widow. "Excuse me, are you okay sir?" Ben looked up to see a young woman with concern in her eyes. "Yeah" He wanted to walk on. “Are you eh, hungry or thirsty something?” Ben looked confused at her. “I can get you something if you want?” she added in a sweet voice.

“Let a woman buy me a fucking coffee? What a fucking pussy would that make me.” and he walked on.

Ben continued down the street, the sights and sounds of the modern world were overwhelming, a constant reminder of how much time had passed and how out of place he was. As he walked, a familiar melody reached his ears. It was faint, but unmistakable, the haunting strains of a Russian folk song that had played endlessly in the lab where they had experimented on him.

The song was a cruel reminder of his years of suffering, a soundtrack to his nightmares. His pulse quickened, and his vision blurred. The world around him seemed to tilt, and he could feel the panic rising, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

The radiation within him, the cursed gift of his captivity, began to stir, responding to his heightened emotional state. Suddenly, without warning, a burst of energy erupted from his chest. The street around him exploded in a violent flash of light and heat. The force of the blast shattered windows, sent cars flying, and threw pedestrians to the ground.

Screams filled the air as chaos erupted. Ben staggered, disoriented and horrified by the idea what he had done. He had no control over this power, no way to stop it once it started. The destruction was immense, and he could hear the wails of the injured and the dying.

His heart pounded in his chest. Y/N heard the explosion and felt the shockwave. She had been walking away from the café, thinking about the troubled man she had just met. When she saw the devastation and the panicked crowd, her first instinct was to help.

She pushed her way through the throngs of fleeing people, her heart racing with fear and determination. She spotted him through the smoke and debris, standing in the centre of the chaos, looking lost and broken. She rushed to his side, her eyes wide with shock at the scene around her.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to touch his arm. The heat radiating from his body made her flinch, but she didn't back away. "I... I didn't mean to..." Ben stammered, over and over. Y/N looked around, her mind racing. She had to get him away from here, away from the people he might hurt.

"We need to get you out of here," she said firmly. "Come with me." Ben nodded, dazed and compliant. He allowed her to lead him away from the scene of destruction, away from the horror he had unleashed. They ducked into an alley, where the noise of the city was slightly muffled, and Y/N took a moment to catch her breath.

"Listen," she said, her voice urgent but calm. "I don't know what happened to you, but you're not alone, okay? I'll help you." Ben looked at her. "Why are you helping me?" "Because you need it," Y/N replied simply. "And because everyone deserves a chance."

Ben nodded slowly, the weight of his guilt and fear still heavy on his shoulders. Y/N supported Ben as they walked through the quieter streets, her arm around his waist to steady him. His weight pressed heavily against her, but she didn't falter. She was determined to help him, no matter what it took.

The path they took was familiar to her, one she had walked many times on her way to the veteran help centre where she volunteered. The centre was closed at this hour, but Y/N had a key. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching before unlocking the door and guiding Ben inside.

The cool, dim interior was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, a sanctuary from the madness of the world. "Sit here," Y/N said softly, helping Ben into a chair in the small break room. She quickly moved to the kitchenette, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the cupboards.

She handed them to Ben, who took them with trembling hands. "What's this shit?" he muttered, his voice barely audible. But still opening the drink. Y/N sat across from him, ignoring his muttering complains, watching as he opened the bottle and took a sip. She could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the lines of pain and weariness that spoke of years of torment.

"You're safe here," she said gently. "Take your time. Eat something.” Ben’s eyes fixed on her. He unwrapped the granola bar and took a small bite, chewing slowly. The simple act of eating seemed to ground him, to bring him back from the edge.

"Why are you helping?" he said after a moment. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough," Y/N replied. Ben leaned back in the chair, the weight of his ordeal starting to lift, if only slightly. He looked around the room, taking in the posters on the walls, the pamphlets about support groups and therapy sessions.

His expression hardened, and he scoffed. "What kind of shit is this?" he muttered, pushing the granola bar away. "A place for vets who have difficulties getting back to the real world." Y/N answered ignoring the disgusting look on his face. "For who can’t handle their crap? PTSD, trauma... that's for fuck-ups who can't cut it. Real men don’t need this kind of help."

Y/N sighed, her patience unyielding. She had encountered this attitude before. She knew it was a defence mechanism, a way to mask vulnerability. "What's your name?" He didn't answer, "I'm Y/N..." she said hoping he would be willing to answer if she took the first step. "Ok doll." was all he said, she didn't push further.

"PTSD is real. It doesn’t make you weak or a 'fuck-up.' It means you've been through something traumatic, something no one should have to face alone." Ben’s eyes flashed with anger. "I've faced plenty alone and survived. Don't need a bunch of pity and hand-holding to get by." "

I’m not offering pity," Y/N said firmly. "I’m offering support. There’s a difference. Some have been through hell, and it's okay to need help coming back from that." Ben clenched his fists, the tension in his body palpable.

"You don't get it," he snapped. "I was a soldier. I fought, bled, and survived on my own. This..." he gestured around the room “... this is for people who can't handle the easy world." Y/N met his gaze steadily.

"Maybe you did survive on your own, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it alone. Needing help doesn’t make you less of a man. It makes you human." He looked away, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more vulnerable.

"You don't know what it's like. What they did to me..." "No, I don't," Y/N admitted. "But I do know that what you're feeling is valid. And that this place exists because too many people try to do it alone and end up hurting themselves or others."

Ben shook his head, "Bullshit" Y/N looked him in the eye. "Is it? Didn't you just blow up in the middle of the street? Literally?" He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for some kind of hate or reluctance, maybe even fear but all he saw was reassurance, patience.

Ben stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His movements were restless, his mind clearly in turmoil. He began to walk toward the door, but Y/N called after him, her voice gentle but firm.

"Wait. If you ever feel like talking, or just need a place to be... I'll be here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Other days, there are other people who can help if you don't want to talk to me. You don’t have to go through this alone."

He paused at the door, glancing back at her. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but instead, he just nodded curtly and walked out into the night. The next day, Y/N was cleaning up after a session, stacking chairs and tidying the break room. That day had been busy, and she was exhausted, but it was a good kind of tired, the kind that came from helping others.

She was lost in thought, reflecting on the day’s work, when she heard the soft chime of the bell above the door. "We're closing," she called out over her shoulder. "The next session is tomorrow." There was a pause, and then a familiar voice responded. "It's me... Ben."

Y/N turned around, surprised but not displeased. Ben stood in the doorway, looking uncertain but determined. He seemed a little more composed than the day before, but the haunted look in his eyes was still there. "Ben..." she said, offering a warm smile. "I'm glad you came back. Come on in."

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I'm not sure what I'm doing here " he admitted. Y/N nodded, gesturing to one of the chairs. "Have a seat. I was just finishing up, but I’m here if you need to talk."

Ben sat down, his movements still a bit stiff. "I don’t know where to start." Ben settled into the chair, looking around the room before finally meeting Y/N’s patient gaze. “Where you feel like.” He seemed to gather his thoughts, taking a deep breath.

“Everything’s different now,” he began, his voice tinged with frustration. “The world... it’s nothing like what I remember. People, technology, everything’s changed. It's like I don’t recognize it anymore.”

Y/N nodded, her expression encouraging him to continue. “I mean, look at the way people are glued to their weird portable phones,” Ben continued, gesturing vaguely. “No one talks to each other face-to-face. Back in my day, if you had something to say, you said it. Now, it’s all that small shitty thing. And the clothes people wear… men walking around in clothing, colours I wouldn’t have been caught dead in.”

He paused, running a hand through his hair. “And don’t even get me started on the way people talk about feelings. PTSD? Trauma? In my time, you just sucked it up and got on with it.”

Y/N listened attentively, her expression understanding. She knew better than to interrupt; sometimes, people just needed to voice their frustrations. “Even the food is different,” Ben continued, his tone a mix of incredulity and irritation.

“Everything’s organic, gluten-free, plant-based crap. What happened to a good old-fashioned burger and fries? And the music… nothing like the rock ‘n roll I grew up with. It’s all electronic noise now.”

He shook his head, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I feel like I don’t belong here. Like the world moved on and left me behind. I was a soldier once, a fucking hero. Now, I’m just...” Y/N waited a moment to make sure he was done before she spoke.

"How long were you gone?" Ben's eyes locked on her, ignoring her question and stood up to leave. Y/N called after him. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" He turned back to face her, his expression guarded.

"No," he admitted. "I didn't need much sleep since I got back." Y/N frowned, concern etched across her features. "You need a place. There’s a motel nearby. I can arrange a room for you, but only if you agree to come to the sessions here every week."

Ben laughed, a rough, humourless sound. "You’re really something, you know that? Since when are woman making deals like that. But alright, I need a place. I'll come to you for sessions. Only you, no one else."

Y/N nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Deal. Every Friday?" Ben smiles looking her up and down while licking his lips. "Sure doll... I see you on Friday." "Tell the motel owner I send you."

Next Friday

Y/N waited anxiously at the centre for Ben to arrive. She checked the clock repeatedly, her concern growing as the minutes ticked by without any sign of him. Finally, she decided to head to the motel to check on him.

When she reached his door, she knocked firmly. After a few moments, the door opened, and she was taken aback to see an elderly woman standing there, looking slightly embarrassed. "Excuse me," Y/N said, trying to keep her voice calm. "I’m looking for Ben. Is he here?"

The woman glanced back over her naked shoulder, and Ben’s voice called out from inside. "Just in time doll, why don’t you join us." Y/N stepped into the doorway, seeing Ben sitting on the bed naked with a mirror filled with powder in his hand.

“Oh my...” Y/N turned around covering her eyes seeing the woman quickly gathered her things, brushing past her as she left the room in a hurry. Y/N’s heart sank as she saw the mess inside and the unmistakable signs of a night spent with company.

Ben sat on the edge of the bed, looking unrepentant. "To what do I own this suprise," he said with a smirk. “We had an appointment, remember?” She glanced over at him. “Can you please cover up?” He said looking up at the ceiling.

"Yeah about that talk, I don’t need your help sweetheart. I just needed a good fuck and something to calm me down." Y/N felt a wave of disappointment and concern. "Ben, this isn’t the way to deal with what you’re going through. You said you’d come to the sessions."

He scoffed, standing up and moving closer to her, putting on dirty sweatpants. "They’re for people who need a shoulder to cry on. I’m not one of them. But if you really want to make it up to me for scaring off my company, you could always... continue where she left off." He nodded to his crotch.

"Stop right there," Y/N cut him off, her voice firm and filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "I’m here to help you, not to be manipulated or disrespected. You’re better than this, Ben. I know you are."

He looked at her, a flicker of something, shame, maybe, crossing his face before it hardened again. "You don’t know anything about me."

"I know you’re hurting," Y/N said, refusing to back down. "And I know you’re scared. But pushing people who want to help away isn’t going to help. You need to face what’s going on inside you. Literally!”

Ben clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "I don’t need your pity."

"It’s not pity," Y/N said quietly. "It’s compassion. And it’s a lifeline, if you’re willing to take it. But you have to want to change, Ben. No one can force you." For a moment, the room was silent. Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

"Ben, if you're more comfortable, we can keep the sessions here in the motel room. But you have to promise I won't walk in on anything like this again." Ben's smirk widened as he walked closer to her, his eyes dark and intent.

He reached out, his hands gripping her arms and pulling her closer to him. Y/N recoiled, anger and fear flashing in her eyes. "Ben, let go of me," she said firmly, her voice shaking slightly. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, feeling his beard softly scratching, as he whispered,

"Don't take away my needs for women and drugs, or I'll take it out on you." Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let fear control her. She forced herself to stand her ground, her eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve.

"This isn't a joke, Ben. You need help, and I'm here to offer it. But I won't be intimidated or manipulated by you." For a moment, Ben's grip tightened, his eyes searching hers for any sign of weakness. When he found none, his expression wavered, uncertainty flickering across his face.

He released her abruptly, stepping back. "Fine," he muttered, his bravado faltering. "We'll have the sessions here. But you better not try to change me."

"I’m not here to change you," Y/N said, rubbing her arms where his hands had held her. "I’m here to help you find a way to live with what you’ve been through. But you have to meet me halfway. See me as, i don’t know, a friend?" Ben looked away, his jaw clenching.

"I don’t need a friend" he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual conviction. "Yes, you do," Y/N said softly.

As Y/N turned to leave, her mind racing with concern and frustration. She reached the door, Ben called out, stopping her in her tracks. "Where are you going?" he asked, his tone a mix of annoyance and challenge.

"I want the session now." She looked back at him, her eyes narrowing as he nodded toward the bed. Thinking this was process. "Sit," he said padding the bed next to him, but she hesitated, her gaze fixed on the rumpled sheets that were a stark reminder of what had just happened there.

"No," Y/N replied firmly. "I'll sit over here." She moved to a chair by the small table, positioning herself as far from the bed as possible. "Let’s talk, go ahead." She said, Ben watched her for a moment, sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

"Fine." He took a deep breath, his expression darkening as he began. "Back in the day, women knew their place. They knew how to treat a man. They'd do anything to please me, anything I wanted. They'd cook, clean, and make sure I was taken care of in bed. They’d do whatever it took to make me happy. They understood what real men need."

Y/N's stomach turned at his words, but she kept her expression neutral, listening intently. "Nowadays, it’s different," Ben continued, a sneer in his voice. "Women think they can do whatever they want. They don’t respect men like they used to. They want to be equal, to have careers and opinions. It’s all bullshit. They don’t know how to take care of a real man. They think they're entitled to everything, without giving anything in return."

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto hers, trying to see her reaction. "The women I’ve been with since I got back... they don’t measure up. They’re too independent, too... modern. They don’t understand what a man like me needs. They just complain and whine, instead of doing their job."

Y/N forced herself to stay calm, her mind racing as she processed his toxic words. "Ben, do you really think that’s what relationships are supposed to be like? One person serving the other without any mutual respect or partnership?" He scoffed. "Partnership? Respect? Those are just modern buzzwords. Real relationships are about roles. Men lead, women follow. It’s how it’s always been."

"Does that make you happy?" Y/N asked quietly. "Do those kinds of relationships fulfil you? Or do they leave you feeling empty and alone after they leave?" Ben’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he masked it with anger.

Y/N pushed his buttons just a little more, “Is that why you didn’t want me to leave? Because then you’ll be alone?” Ben’s lip twitched "You don’t know what you're talking about. You’re just another modern woman who thinks she can lecture me about life."

"I’m not trying to lecture you, Ben," Y/N said softly. "I’m trying to understand you. But more importantly, I want you to understand yourself. These beliefs, this anger... it’s not just about the world changing. It’s about you feeling lost and trying to find control in a world that’s different from what you knew."

He glared at her, but didn’t interrupt. "Let’s dig deeper," Y/N continued. "Why do you feel the need of control over women? What are you really afraid of?" Y/N’s question seemed to strike a nerve. Ben’s expression darkened, and he abruptly stood up, in two paces he stood tall, towering over her.

His voice rose as he leaned in close, anger radiating from him. "Why do I feel the need to exert control? What am I afraid of? You don’t know anything about me!" Y/N didn't flinch. She met his gaze steadily, her calmness a contrast to his rage. This seemed to catch him off guard, and he paused, staring at her with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"Here she is, lecturing men but this little princess is just as big of a fuck up like the men she helps, isn’t she?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Most people would be scared, what did you see that made you a stone-cold bitch?"

Y/N took a deep breath, maintaining her composure, not willing to share her story with him just yet, but he needed something from her to build trust. "I’ve faced fear before, Ben. I grew up as the daughter of a veteran. My father came back from war a different man. He was aggressive, a drunk. He’d beat me whenever he felt like it, accidently killed my mother in front of me while he was high and saw things there weren’t. So no, Ben, you don’t scare me."

Ben’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face, maybe even a little regret. He stepped back, his anger momentarily replaced by something else, perhaps respect, perhaps understanding, perhaps pity. "So, you have daddy issues, poor baby.”

"I’ve had help" Y/N said softly. "But understand this, Ben: I've seen what anger and no control can do to a person. It doesn’t lead to happiness or peace. It leads to more pain.” Y/N stood up, stepping closed to him, toe to toe.

Her eyes were unwavering, her voice firm. "I have patience, Ben. But lose your temper like this one more time, and you'll be alone. Understand?" Ben’s lip twitched in anger. He moved the chair aside, placed his hands against the wall behind her, leaning in close.

"Maybe I should teach you some manners," he growled, his breath hot against her face. Y/N didn’t flinch. She looked him straight in the eyes, her voice steady and cold.

"Go ahead, try it. But understand this: I’ve dealt with men like you my whole life. You think you can intimidate me? You’re wrong. And if you do this, you’ll lose the only person who’s trying to help you. Do you really want to go down that road?"

For a moment, they stood there, locked in a silent standoff. Ben’s eyes were filled with rage, but beneath it, Y/N could see a flicker of doubt and confusion. Slowly, his hands dropped to his sides, and he stepped back, a mix of anger and frustration playing across his features.

“Good," Y/N said. "Now, let’s get back to talking. We’re not done yet." - “Oh no, we’re done for today doll.” he said opening the door. She followed him.

Y/N walked through the door Ben held open for her, her eyes briefly and unconsciously sweeping over his toned chest, noticing the small freckles scattered across his skin, similar to the ones on his face.

She took a deep breath, focusing back on the conversation. "Ben," she said, her voice firm but kind, "see my advice as tough love. I'm a friend who wants to help you, not someone you can... fuck around with"

Ben's smirk returned, a hint of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Tough love, huh? Never thought I'd hear that from you." Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression unwavering. "Well, get used to it. I'm not here to cuddle you. I'm here to help you find a way to live in this new world, to help you become the person you want to be."

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I get it. Tough love it is." She nodded back, feeling a small sense of victory. "Good. I'll see you next week. Same time." As she walked away, she felt his eyes on her, a mix of curiosity and respect in his gaze.

It was a start, and for now, that was enough. She had made it clear that she wouldn't be pushed around, and Ben seemed to understand that. One step at a time, she reminded herself.

In the following sessions, Ben was more composed. He wore clothing and there were no unexpected visitors, though Y/N could still smell the lingering scent of sex in the air and noticed the traces of cocaine on the mirror beside his bed. Despite these signs, he began to talk more openly, allowing her to glimpse the deeper layers of his pain.

One evening, as they sat across from each other, Ben finally broached a subject he had been avoiding. "My team... they betrayed me," he said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. Y/N leaned in slightly, encouraging him to continue.

"Tell me more about that," she said gently. He took a deep breath, his eyes distant as he recounted the memories. "We were supposed to be a unit, a family. But they sold me out. They handed me over to the Russians.”

He took his time to think about his next words. “Forty years, doll. Forty years in that hellhole because of them." Y/N nodded, her expression empathetic. "That must have been incredibly painful, feeling that betrayal from people you trusted."

Ben's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "It was more than painful. It broke me. I thought I could trust them, but they were just using me. And when I was no longer useful, they discarded me. Even my own girl."

"It's understandable to feel angry and hurt," Y/N said softly. "But holding onto that anger will only continue to harm you. You need to find a way to process those feelings, to let go of the pain, if you want to move forward."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and vulnerability. After weeks of sessions, Y/N felt they had made enough progress to broach a crucial topic. As they sat in the motel room, Ben seemed more relaxed, though the ever-present tension lingered beneath the surface.

"Ben," Y/N began, her voice steady, "do you want to be Soldier Boy again?" He looked up, startled. "How do you...?" Y/N smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I've been listening, the pieces of your story. The details, the hints. I put them together."

Ben's surprise turned into a wry smile. "You're smarter than you look." His eyes roamed her body like they did so often, at first, she felt uncomfortable by it, now she had learned the difference is his looks.

This one wasn’t filled with heat, or not as much, no it was more an appreciation look.

"Thanks, I think," Y/N replied, chuckling. "But seriously, do you want to go back to that life? To being Soldier Boy?"

He leaned back, scratching his beard. "I don’t know. Part of me does. It’s all I’ve ever known. But another part of me wants to kill my old team and move on." Y/N ignored his lasts sentence.

As they continued their conversation, Y/N felt a growing sense of optimism. Seeing Ben was starting to see beyond his past, to consider a future that wasn’t defined by his old identity.

As Y/N ended their session she stood up and placed a hand on his arm. “You did good today Ben, I'm proud of you.” She could see the shock in his eyes, realising no one had ever told him they were proud of him. Not as sincerely like she just did.

Ben’s eyes flickered to her lips and back a few times, so, before he could so something to ruin their bond she turned away. “See you next week.”

Next week

Ben paced the motel room, glancing at the clock every few minutes. Y/N was late. He tried to convince himself that maybe she was just held up, but as the minutes ticked by, anger began to simmer.

Just when he had started to open up, to trust her, she didn't show up. The feeling of abandonment gnawed at him, intensifying his frustration. He threw the table a crossed the room, trying to let go of his anger.

Deep down he knew she was like everyone else, thinking: “Maybe the fact that he was Soldier Boy pushed her away? Fucking pussy, you shouldn’t have told her about your fucking feelings. Man the fuck up!”

By Saturday, his anger had turned into a determined need for answers. He decided to walk by the centre where Y/N volunteered, hoping to find her there, she told him the last weeks she had fulltime hours.

He needed some explanation. As he approached, he saw her at the doors, but she wasn't alone. A man in a suit stood with her, and they were arguing heatedly. Ben's eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange.

The man gestured aggressively, his face twisted in anger. Y/N flinched at his movement, just so slight that most people wouldn't notice, but Ben did. Knowing she doesn’t flinch just like that unless...

His anger flared, a protective instinct kicking in. He strode up to them, his presence immediately drawing their attention. "Hey!" Ben barked, stepping between Y/N and the man.

"What's going on here?" The man in the suit turned to face him, irritation clear in his eyes. "This is none of your business caveman, leave." Ben's gaze hardened. "It is my business if you're bothering her."

“Oh...” the man looked at Y/N “This is one of your little projects!” Turning back to Ben. “I’m sorry buddy, but I need to talk to my girl.” Ben looked at Y/B seeing her face twitch at the words ‘my girl’.

“Just go away Peter. We’re done I told you last night.” But then Ben noticed something he hadn't seen before: a faint bruise on Y/N's cheek, barely hidden by makeup. His eyes narrowed, and his chest tightened with anger.

Ben glanced at Y/N, who noticed his eyes on her and looked away, clearly distressed. "Who is this guy, Y/N?" She hesitated before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "He's my ex-boss and... ex-boyfriend."

The man's sneer grew. "We were just having a conversation. Nothing for you to worry about." Ben's eyes flicked back to the man, his anger simmering just below the surface. "A conversation that left a bruise on her face?"

The man's expression turned smug. "She left me because of one little mistake. She needs to learn her place. I’m sure you understand." Ben's chest began to glow faintly, his rage manifesting physically. "You piece of shit."

The ex-boyfriend didn't seem to notice the glow at first, but when Y/N placed her hand on Ben's chest, trying to calm him, she gasped in pain, pulling her hand back with a burn. "Ben, stop!" she cried, her eyes wide with fear and concern.

The man took a step back, finally realizing he was pissing of a supe. "What the hell...." Before Ben could react further, Y/N stepped in front of him, her unburned hand on his arm, pleading.

"Ben, please. Calm down. Don’t let him get to you. This isn’t the way." Ben's eyes met hers, and the glow began to fade as he struggled to control his anger. His fists unclenched, but his eyes remained fixed on the man.

"You’re lucky she’s here. But if I ever see you near her again, I won’t hold back." The ex-boyfriend, now visibly shaken, took another step back. "So now you take care of freaks too?" he muttered. “I hope they can fix your issues.” he added before walking away.

Ben looked at her, opening the door for her so she could get inside. ”Let me see your hand.” Y/N shook her head, “I can take care of myself.” But Ben thought differently, pushing her toward the table, his eyes demanding her to sit down.

Ben searched around the kitchen for the first aid kit, his movements still tense from the encounter. When he found it, he brought it over to Y/N and carefully began treating her burned hand.

"So, you slept with your boss," he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of teasing scepticism. Y/N smirked, wincing slightly as the cool ointment touched her skin. "Never thought that was your kink," Ben chuckled, the tension easing slightly.

"I though more in the line of, older man, calling them daddy, spanking your perfect little ass... Guess I’ve still got a lot to learn about you." He looked up at her, seeing her reaction, she tried to hide a smile, the humour lightening the mood.

"It was a mistake," she admitted, her expression growing more serious. "We were together before he was my boss. Things were good at first, but then he had stress, started drinking more, and everything went downhill."

Ben nodded, listening when she finally opened up to him. “I saw my father in him, determine to heal him before he could hurt anyone.” she said looking at his hands gentle as he wrapped her hand in a bandage.

"And then he hit you?" Ben asked without joking about her ‘daddy issues’ - "Yeah," she said softly. "That was the last straw. I couldn’t stay with him after that." Ben finished wrapping her hand, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of concern and respect.

"You did the right thing by leaving. No one deserves to be treated like that." She looked confused at him, he noticed "Just because I think a woman should be at home, cooking for her man, please him doesn't mean I would hit her... unless she likes a little spanking in the bedroom." He winks at her.

She could feel the soft pink on her cheeks burning, "Thanks, Ben," she said, her smile returning. Ben looked at Y/N after taking care of her hand, a sense of resolve in his eyes. "I need to take care of a few things," he said, his voice gentle but determined.

"You won't be seeing me for a while." Y/N nodded, understanding the weight of his words. Ben looked at Y/N, concern etched in his features. "Are you going to be okay being alone?"

Y/N met his gaze, her expression softening. "Are you?" He chuckled, a hint of self-awareness in his laughter. "No, not really." She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Me neither."

Y/N looked at Ben, her expression turning serious. "What are your plans?" Ben hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to hers. "I... I'm going to visit an old friend," he admitted reluctantly.

"Someone who can help me get my suit back." Y/N's brows furrowed in concern. "Your suit? Why do you need that?" He looked away again, the weight of his words heavy on his shoulders. "To... settle some unfinished business.” Her eyes widened in alarm. "Ben, you can't be serious.”

"I have to," he insisted, his voice tight with determination. "They betrayed me, Y/N. They left me to rot in that hellhole for forty years. I can't just let that go." Y/N reached out, taking his hand in hers, her touch gentle but firm. "Please, Ben. Think about what you're doing. Revenge won't heal anything."

As Ben and Y/N looked at each other, there was a palpable tension in the air. For the first time, they felt a stirring of attraction, a spark igniting between them. Y/N's gaze lingered on Ben in a way she hadn't before, truly seeing him for the first time.

She noticed the depth of his green eyes, the curve of his full lips, the scattering of freckles across his skin. There was a ruggedness to him, a rawness that drew her in. Ben found himself captivated by Y/N in a way he hadn't expected.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her lips, imagining the softness of them against his own. He felt a pull towards her, a magnetic force that seemed to draw them closer with each passing moment.

Slowly, almost instinctively, they began to close the space between them. The air crackled with anticipation as their breaths mingled, their hearts beating in sync. In that moment her hands moved to his cheek, a tender gesture as she pulled him closer and kissed him softly.

He leaned into the kiss, savouring the moment, feeling the soft scratch of his beard against her skin. When he pulled back she kept her eyes closed, she could hear him moving. Knowing what he is going to do.

She heard the door closing, reality crashed back in, and a single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. In the quiet of the room, she couldn't help but wonder why it hurt so much. The sudden ache in her heart caught her off guard, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable.

Her eyes where still closed, her fingers moved over her lips, trying to hold on to the lingering sensation of Ben's kiss.

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thewulf · 1 year

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Just Keep Swimming || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Hi there! If it's not too much trouble can I ask for a hangman x fem!reader kinda enemy to lover fic? There's a new squadron coming to top gun and there is some tension between the two squadron... Read Rest Here

A/N: Another long one! Little bit of made of squadron stuff to make the story flow/work better. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 9.4k +

“Dory!” Your head snapped up from the manual you were staring at, hopelessly lost in thought, “Are you paying attention, Lieutenant?” Your captain, Kasper, stepped forward eyeing you. He knew you were gone, lost in your head. You didn’t garner your callsign from just any Dory. Too often you’d be lost in thought almost ignoring anything your leadership was trying to teach you. It drove them mad. But it was just you. It helped that you were a damn good pilot. A really good pilot, exceptional even. Best in your squadron. You’d worked hard to be in that position. Putting in more flight hours than anybody around you almost combined. If you wanted to be the best, you had to beat the best. You always knew that.

“Yes Cap.” Nodding your head with the smallest smile spread across your lips you waited for his reaction.

Shaking his head as he stepped forward, he stopped in front of you table, “What did I say about calling me that? Care to share what I was just saying?” He asked glaring right at you. Although he couldn’t hide the hint of a smile that to his lips. You just drew that reaction out of him.

“The enemy will have fighter jets far superior to ours.” Ignoring his first question you paused flashing him the grin you always did when you won the little battle you were having with him, “Which begs the question, what’s our military spending all that money with?” Leaning back in the seat you watched for his reaction intently. This is what you loved to do, flip it around and put the heat on him.

You’d earned a few snickers from your fellow pilots. You’d always been the firecracker of the group. Sort of a loose cannon. You’d argued that it was because you were the only female in the squadron. You had to be a little tougher. A little snarkier. It worked for you though. When you’d finally landed in your squadron, you’d gelled with almost everybody

“That’s a good question. Take it up with the admiral next time you see him.” He sighed knowing better than to challenge you. Even when it didn’t look like you were paying attention you were always listening. You always had to be on. It wasn’t an option for you. If you weren’t on that’d be an excuse to remove you from the group. You’d never be the reason.

You nodded your head taking in what he said, “You know Kasper, I just might. That’s a really good idea.” You grinned seeing the slightly horrified expression. You really just might. You hadn’t a problem taking anything up with your captain. Why not try a little higher?

“Alright, onto the news. We’ll be traveling to Miramar for the next month.” He broke the news so casually it earned confused glances from everybody in the classroom. Miramar meant Top Gun. What in the absolute hell were you being called back to Top Gun for?

“Top Gun?” Cairo, another pilot, asked after registering what he really meant.

His smirk grew to a smile as he remembered his time there. He seemed equally as thrilled as the guys as soon as they realized, “We’re all getting called back to Top Gun. Joining the Dagger Squadron on a mission in Russia.”

Leaning back in the seat you decided to simply listen. Listening as the men erupted in both happiness and confusion. A few with annoyed looks knowing they’d be far away from family for a while. You didn’t know how to feel. It’s probably something dangerous. The last mission you went on being very short of successful it was hard to comprehend going in and doing something even harder.

The Navy employs four separate groups of elite pilots with the best rising pilots as the elder pilots aged out and promoted up. The squadrons consisted of the Dagger Squad stationed at Top Gun in Miramar. Your squad, the Red Rippers out of Virginia. The Wolves down in Texas and the Ace Squad in Nevada.

You’d been stationed in Virginia for the last four years. With the Rippers Squad for the last three. It had been a while since your Squadron flew something incredibly dangerous. The last mission just consisted of you and Red. They didn’t have the semi-fear that you felt hearing that statement.

You’d listened as all the men around you turned from confusion to cheering in glee. Most of them craved the danger. Danger made you nervous. You had to hide your fears as you feigned a smile. Playing into the cheers.

“A joint training for four weeks followed by a week-long deployment. Captain Mitchell, Maverick, will have more details when we arrive.”

You’d never been on a joint mission between two squads. You’d heard it happen before, but it wasn’t very common. Whatever the hell the mission was must’ve been serious though. Joint trainings were serious business that the Navy spent lots of money on. You knew you had to impress. You needed to redeem yourself. Fly a successful mission. Whatever the hell it took.

“Ten pilots. Five wizzo’s. Will be dropping ten successive bombs over a large intelligence base off the coast of Russia. It’s gone nearly undetected for almost five years. They don’t have a clue we’re onto them though. One pilot to one wingman with a wizzo. Each pair will drop two long range laser guided bomb over a designated part of the facility. The wizzo will guide both bombs in. We’ll be practicing heavily on the drop. There’s hardly any security and we’re planning a Tomahawk attack on the runway.” Mav paused making sure each student was listening. He didn’t know your squadron at all, but he sure had everybody’s attention. You looked around counting everybody. Twenty pilots and ten weapons systems officers gave Mav their full attention.

“You’re a shoe-in.” Jax, one of your very best friends leaned over while poking your side. He never let you forget just how good you actually were.

You shook your head, “You don’t know that. You don’t know how good they are. Didn’t they just like blow up a Uranium plant last year? Living legends.”

He rolled his eyes, “You beat Kasper yesterday Y/N.” It wasn’t often that he was beat, but it always seemed to be at your hands. Still, he got you a majority of the time. For every ten times he beat you, you beat him once in the midst.

“The place must be huge if it needs ten bombs to level it.” Steering the conversation away from topic of you and back onto the mission you didn’t love bragging about yourself. The confidence you exuded was entirely manufactured for visuals

“Five million square feet. Two bombs per million square feet. Rapid succession within twenty seconds of each other. We can’t give them enough time for their defense to scramble. The good news is they’ve never had to worry about any attacks. So, they’ll be a little rusty. We’re going to be testing that. We’ll be dealing with SAM’s. Potentially drones. Recon’s doing more research on the base and its defenses now to confirm. Any questions?” Maverick continued bulldozing through the small side conversations that erupted at each pair at a table.

You nodded your head. You liked him. To the point and simple. He reminded you a lot of your captain, Kasper. He continued as he answered other aviator’s questions. You went into your own head imagining the mission. It didn’t sound overly complicated. Get in, get out and get home.

“Alright, planes up in fifteen.” Mav ordered bringing you right back to the present, “We’ll have Hangman against Dory first. Coyote and Berlin after.”

“Oh, this oughta be easy.” The blonde one laughed patting his partner’s shoulder.

His comment piqued your interest more than you wanted to admit. You didn’t really want to start a fight this early, but he was the one that spoke out first, “Why do you say that?” You turned around asking the man in row in front of you. You really should’ve just walked away. You were sure your first impression of the cocky guy was about to reign true, an utter asshole.

“Honey, you’re walking onto our base. No offense.” He smirked seeing the anger grow slightly on your face. He just loved getting a rise out of anybody that he possibly could, “But if you really have to know sweetheart. We’re the best of the best. Each one of us is better than each one of you.”

You hummed a little amused by the whole situation. This man was cockier than ever. Even finishing his comment with a dazzling smile, you were sure always worked for him. God, you’ve dealt with hundreds of these dickheads too many times before.

Taking a peek behind you, you noticed almost the entirely of your squadron paused turning to this guy. You didn’t like the expression on any of their faces. It seemed like Hangman had already pissed half his squadron off already too, “I wasn’t aware the air is magically different here. We don’t believe in home field advantage.” You laughed softly looking over at Jax who was nodding his head in agreement. The entirety of the squad had your back. Making sure you were good before they went to go get changed.

“We’ll see about that. In the air.” He paused eyeing you. Giving you a once over. Seemingly not used to getting talked back to. It made you smile. You loved taking people out of their comfort zone. It’s how you got to where you were.

You nodded beginning to walk out, “We sure will Hangman. Can’t wait to see you up there.” You’d noticed his last name was Seresin from his name plate. Connecting the dots, you put two and two together. This guy was the one with the second most live air kills, behind Maverick. It was no wonder he was such an arrogant asshole. You wondered how you’d fair in a dogfight had you been given the chance to try. All the missions you flew on were long range missile drops. You hardly encountered any air-to-air combat in your time.

You got the last word as you made a beeline towards the locker room changing for the training session. This was the worst. When your anxiety got the best of you. Nerves so deep it felt like you were choking on them. Luckily your thoughts were interrupted as you heard footsteps come from the entrance of the locker room, “Ignore him. He’s an asshole.” She walked closer holding her hand out, “Natasha, Phoenix.”

Taking it in yours you smiled, “We’ve both dealt with hundreds of him by now, I’m sure. What’s another?”

Her soft snicker could have been taken as innocent, “Hangman is… a very special breed. One of a kind I’m afraid.”

You nodded zipping the front of the suit all the way up. Checking your hair repositioned a few bobby pins making sure no hairs were out of place, “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind. Y/N. Dory.”

“I’ve heard good things.”

You smiled, “Likewise. So, what’s his deal?”

She shrugged, “We call him Bagman for a reason. He’ll leave you high and dry for a shot any day. He’ll play by the rules though. Watch your back.”

You nodded along adjusting your helmet to better fit, “Noted. Watch out for the dickhead.”

That earned a laugh from your fellow pilot, “To say the very least. Good luck out there and please, kick his sorry ass. He needs a good humbling.”

You grinned, “You got it.” Walking out of the locker room you felt that surge of confidence you always felt when you walked to your plane. Man did you love your job.

Being in the air was like nothing else. It came so naturally to you. You flew closely behind Kasper while Hangman flew closely behind Maverick.

“Alright. No going below the hard deck. Hard deck is 2000 feet. No other rules. Fight how you see fit.” Maverick’s voice broke you from the daydream you were in. No rules and a hard deck that low? This was about to be so much fun.

“Mav and I will be in the air to monitor.” Kasper spoke quickly after Mav wrapped it up. You nodded along, easy enough. You’d done these training exercises hundreds of times with the guys in your squad. How much harder could it be with Hangman really?

“What’s the punishment for Dory when she loses?” Hangman chided in before Mav could give you the green light. All you could do was laugh. This fella sure was cocky.

“250 sit-ups for the loser.” You wouldn’t dare let him get the last word in. Plus, you knew how fucking hard sit-ups were for the men in your squadron. They always started crying at 150 while you flew through them, they were cake for you. Just another day of training really.

“That’s a hell of a punishment.” Kasper spoke up. You knew he was shaking his head in that cockpit. He was always shaking his head with a smile on his face. You never ceased to surprise him.

“I like it.” Mav agreed with you, “250 sit-ups for the first person to get shot down. It’s going to be a dogfight. On my command. Go.”

You dove immediately. Your plan was to lose him low in the mountains. They gave you a 20 square mile range to fly in, which wasn’t a lot. The closer you got to the hard deck the harder it would be for him to detect you. You didn’t have time to pay attention to what he was doing. That might’ve been a mistake as he found you easily and was on your tail immediately. You heard your radar beeping as he tried to lock onto to you.

Well shit, he might’ve been better than you were planning to give him credit for. Eyes narrowing you pushed it a little faster to get into the mountains. It was so much easier to dodge lock when you were constantly moving side to side.

“Darling, this is too easy.” He nearly locked on to your jet before you dove even further. He followed relentlessly as you dodged and swerved through the canyons and valleys of the mountain.

“Where are you off too?” He questioned as you pushed him to his limits. It’s a known fact that shorter women pilots were able to take the g-forces far better than their much taller counterparts. But he was handling this well. You just had to hit all those turns just a little bit harder.

You couldn’t seem to shake him as he kept pace with you. It wasn’t easy and you were making it absolutely impossible to get a lock on which was beginning to piss him off. Usually, it only took him a few minutes to take someone out. You were much, much smarter than the guys in his unit. He should’ve known as the only person that could beat him was Natasha. The women had the brains, and he knew it. And you seemed to be even more strategic than Phoenix as you kept diving and rising just to throw him off even further.

And those brains paid off. You knew you couldn’t do this forever. Kasper and Mav would come in and shoot the both of you down. It wasn’t supposed to be a game of cat and mouse but a dogfight instead. Checking out the map you found a straightaway that would let you go up and over without risk of hitting the mountain side.

Hangman was giddy when he saw where you were heading. This was his only literal shot he could get on you. What he certainly didn’t expect was for you begin pulling some Maverick moves. Moves that not even Kasper dared to try. Moves that made even Hangman a little leery to try. Kasper always claimed he loved his life too much to pull the ‘shit that you do’ off.

You pulled up. Before Hangman could follow, he watched as your wings turned down almost stopping you in mid-air nearly halting your speed down to zero knots. Hangman darted right past you. ‘Gotcha’ you whispered to yourself as you hit the stick forward beginning to chase him down.

“Easy my ass.” You giggled speeding right back up hightailing it behind him.

“Fucking serious?” Hangman grumbled as he realized he was now being chased, the mouse. This simply didn’t happen to him. He tried to think fast but you were faster.

“As a damn heart attack, sweetheart.” You locked on before shooting him down.

“Fuck.” Hangman sighed hitting his head against the stick.

“Damn. Good work Dory. That’s a kill.” Maverick chimed back in, “Go ahead and land. Jake, you got 250. Don’t short them.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll be counting.” You chimed in. Hearing Kasper’s hearty laugh. You knew you made him oh so proud. He defended you until his face was blue. You had to repay him by backing up your mouth that often ran a too far. You hadn’t let him down though. You backed it right on up.

“There’s really no need for that.” Hangman grumbled as you followed him back down to the runway. Both Mav and Kasper were staying up so long as they had fuel guiding the next groups up.

“There really is.” You countered knowing you were slowly driving him up a wall.

“Has anybody ever told you that you were annoying?” You could hear the frustration dripping through his responses. The laugh that followed was sincere.

“All the damn time. In fact, Jax told me that I was this morning.”

“Christ.” He sighed descending down to the landing strip. Coyote and Berlin were lined up ready to take off once the two of you landed.

“Did I just hear a good old Christian country boy take the lords name in vain?” You gasped knowing exactly how to press his buttons. He sure was special but you knew exactly what to do to keep that bark back inside him.

“I’m not responding anymore.” He grumbled. Somehow you knew he had a stupid little smile on his face. You had a big ass smile on your face as you hopped out of the cockpit of your jet once you landed.

Hangman stood by his jet holding his helmet looking pissed at himself. You nearly skipped over thrilled you got the upper hand so easily against him.

“Good job up there.” He grumbled as you approached.

“Is that a compliment?”

He nodded, “One and only.”

You grinned, “I’m honored. Thanks Jake. Now get to it.”

The two of you chatted causally back and forth. The front that he had in front of the other guys nearly vanishing as you started talking. The conversation surprisingly coming very easily between the two of you. Something you hardly expected at the beginning of the day. You wished you knew how rare of an occurrence this was.

“You guys coming to the Hard Deck tonight?” He asked as he finished up the 250. Naturally he did it with ease and didn’t even complain to you once. You had to admit that Phoenix was right. There was something so different about this man.

“That depends. Are we allowed?” You smirked sensing the tension between the two groups of nearly all men early on in the day. You and Natasha got along easily enough the boys should’ve been able to do the same. Naturally, the Dagger Squad wasn’t too thrilled about your groups appearance, especially on their base. There was bound to be undeniable tension. You thought they’d get over it. But no, they could never. They were like dogs marking their territory everywhere.

“You graduated from Top Gun, right?” Jake was full of Jokes. Every class in Top Gun seemed to make their way to the Hard Deck. It was right around the corner from the base, and it was easy going, The two things pilots needed.

Rolling your eyes you nodded, “We’ll be there.”

“I’ll buy you a beer.”

You shook your head while standing up, “No need.”

“Why? Got yourself a man back home?” He smirked wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“I don’t. I can pay for my own drinks. Nothing good happens when a guy buys you a drink.” You hummed beginning your walk back to the locker room. He followed like a little golden retriever puppy right behind you.

“I’d disagree with that.”

“You have your opinions, I have mine.” You shrugged trying your best to keep him behind you. Unlucky for you his stride was much longer than yours, catching up to you like it was nothing.

“Come on sweetheart. Just one?”

“Why are you so adamant Hangman?” You returned his question with one of your own.

“You kicked my ass up there. I think that deserves a drink.” Was he trying to make the peace with you?

“Will it shut you up if I give in?” You didn’t really want to give in, but man was he persistent. Sure, he would’ve kept pestering you all night if you kept the game going.

“You know it darling.” He stopped in front of the door that led to the women’s locker room smirking right down at you.

“Then you can buy me exactly one drink.” You hated giving in but you had a feeling the man you’d simply never stop.

He nodded, “That’s what I like to hear.” He stepped aside heading to change just like you. You took your time putting your regular military khakis back on. Not entirely eager to go sit in a room full of hyped-up men ready to go fly. That was the one downside of going first. Waiting for everybody else to go.

You walked back into the classroom taking a seat at the empty desk. Jax must’ve been coming up since you didn’t see him in the room. You didn’t really feel like listening to the radio, no matter how entertaining.

Hangman’s loud voice pulled you out of the manual you were going through. You suppressed the eye roll when you heard him tell the other guys about how lucky you got up there and that he had you the next time, no problem.

Again, you didn’t want to approach him, but he really didn’t leave you with a choice. You couldn’t let him just sit there and run his mouth.

“Luck?” You laughed behind him as he talked to the guys around him, “That’s not what you said twenty minutes ago, Hangman. Might I repeat what you said? Something about me kicking your ass?”

He turned with wide eyes completely unaware you stood behind him, arms crossed over your chest with an unimpressed look. He kept underestimating you. He needed to knock that off or his reputation would be as good as gone by the time the mission rolled around.

“Yeah,” The one with a mustache behind him agreed with you, “Didn’t sound like much luck on the radio Hangman.” He tipped his head at you as if to thank you. It seemed as though Hangman was a touchy subject even within his own squadron.

He sighed knowing you got the better of him, “Luck and skill.”

“Or just skill. Not all of us need luck to be successful.” You were officially annoyed with this version of Jake. Not the guy who you were chatting with thirty minutes prior. That guy had a personality that was somewhat redeeming. This guy was insufferable.

The one behind him started laughing, “We all get beat Hangman. It’s okay to admit defeat.” He egged him on. You officially liked the dark-haired moustache man. He seemed to find immense enjoyment out of antagonizing the guy. Almost as much as you.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see who’s the real winner after the next few weeks.” He couldn’t seem to back down. Not willing to admit defeat just yet.

“We sure will. Can’t wait to find out.” You walked away right back to your seat waiting for the rest of the class to go through their training for the day. Luckily the latest version of the F-18 manual had come out giving you something to scour through as you waited.

Walking into the Hard Deck with Jax had never felt so good. It’d been far too long. The two of you made it over to where the rest of the two squadrons were mingling. The tensions were still a little too high for comfort. Hopefully the alcohol would lower everybody’s hostility not heighten it.

You took a seat next to Berlin and Bob. You’d taken a quick liking to the gentle naturedness of Bob. He sat behind you in class asking you a few questions as the two of you scoured through the new manuals. The only two not actively listening to the radio comms. Quickly you spotted Jake sitting at the bar with Javy. Javy had been one of the few Dagger Squad members to introduce themselves to you. The rest seemingly put off by the extra squad at their base.

Who you didn’t spot was your old partner in the skies, Red, sitting right next to them. He sat next to them in his civilian clothes being as discreet as possible. It’s not that he wanted to hide from you. He just didn’t know what to say to you. It was difficult. The two of you thought you were untouchable in the skies. Until you weren’t.

“Lieutenants.” Red held his beer up to Jake and Javy. You’d turned back to conversation with both Bob and Berlin. The two biggest nerds keeping you enthralled with whatever they kept going on about. It’s not like you understood the physics they kept going on about.

Jake gave him the up and down, unable to figure out who and the hell was talking to them, “Lieutenant?” He questioned back as if to ask who he was.

He nodded, “I once was. Had to retire. My wingman and I took a few nasty hits on our mission months ago. I got stabbed in the eye on my decent down. My wingman almost bled to death. Needless to say, you can’t fly with one eye. Call sign’s Red. Just took a job as a Chief Warrant Officer though.” He held his beer up to the pilots.

“Cheers.” Jake held his beer up. The three of them drinking in silence until Jake couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re wingman. Does he still fly?” He didn’t know why he was so curious but he was.

Jake missed the quick glance he threw you through the crowd, “She does.”

Jake took a long sip of his beer contemplating his next move. Did he really want to know? He did, “What happened then?”

Red sighed leaning his back against the barstool, “Recon didn’t do their job. We got ambushed right in the middle of the mission. It was supposed to be a few long-range bomb drops. No big deal. We’d done it hundreds of times before. This was different though…” He paused looking down like he had failed you, “There were so many SAM’s that we couldn’t shake. She went down defending me. I didn’t last much longer. Got stabbed in the eye by a tree, I think. I don’t really remember. Doctor said I was lucky that’s all that happened. My wingman though. She took the brunt of it. Found her lying in the snow shivering half conscious. When I rolled her over there was a 10-inch cut running right next to her spine. Doctor was amazed she even survived. Said she should’ve died from the blood loss. She got lucky the cut didn’t hit anything crucial. Doc said whatever it was that cut her missed her spine by inches. Miracle really. She made a full recovery in a few months. She’s flying right now.”

“Is she good?” Javy asked, curious as ever.

“Good?” Red laughed thinking of all the stunts you’d pulled over the years, “She’s the best damn pilot I’ve ever gotten the privilege to fly with. She put her life on the line for me and would do it again in a heartbeat. I’d do anything to go fly with her again. But when you lose an entire eye it’s hard to convince the Navy.” The three of them chuckled at his joke around the subject. He was trying to lighten the drawn down mood.

“What’s her name?” Jake asked.

He shook his head, “She wouldn’t want me to say. It’s between the two of us and her squad. She’s not looking for any points.”

That’s when Jake heard your laugh. He turned towards you with a warm smile on his face, “Got it.” Jake failed to turn back towards Red as he collected another beer from Penny for you, “I’m sorry. Not be rude but I told Dory I’d buy her a drink.”

Red laughed unironically and nodded, “Go on. I’m sure she needs it.” The three of them laughed as Jake walked over to you. Javy kept the conversation going with the retired Pilot who was returning as a CWO. He’d gotten fast tracked with the aviation department after the unfortunate incident. That’s why he was here after all. Kasper invited him out to help out with the mission and he jumped at the opportunity. He just hadn’t had the courage to tell you just yet.

Red simply smiled as he watched your face scrunch up as the pilot walked over to you. That was the same damn face you’d make at him for years as the two of you trained together. As much as the two of you got on each other’s nerves you loved the other harder. Red finished the glass that Penny poured him and headed out. Tomorrow. That’s when he’d tell you he was back.

To say the next few weeks were anything but challenging would be a vast understatement. You’d put a target right on your back after handing Hangman that first defeat. Not only was he, but everybody in his damn squadron had it out for you. They had to beat Dory. But you didn’t let them. You had to hand it to everybody though, they were making you the best pilot you could be. Having to be so technically sound and anticipating in the air wasn’t an easy task.

Jake managed to beat you a few times in all the trainings. But you still had the edge. Every two times you beat him, he beat you once. Natasha was right, Hangman was a very special kind of guy. He made you so irate one moment and then had you giggling like a middle school girl with a fiery crush the next.

Just as much as he drove you mad you did the exact same to Jake. He’d never met anybody like you. You were nothing like Natasha but every bit as confident, if not more than the girl. You never seemed to let any comment bring you down only drive you further. He knew what to say to get under your skin. You knew what to say to get under his.

It all hit a breaking point when you and Hangman were against each other again in another dogfight training. Mav and Kasper just seemed to love to pair the two of you up. Neither one of you wanted to give it up in this training session which led to Maverick and Kasper yelling at the both of you on comms to let up, both of you ignoring him, you almost running into Jake and narrowly avoiding the side of the mountain and Jake completely fucking the frame up of his F-18, bending it so it was unflyable as he tried to shoot you down.

To say Maverick gave you an earful was the understatement of the year. Kasper simply stood there and watched as he berated the both of you. Threatening Court Martial and all. Truly, you’d never been so frightened by a leader in the military. Kasper must have noticed the expression on your face as he simply shook his head once Maverick was done tearing into the side of both of you. You felt lucky you weren’t having to go see the Vice Admiral on base, Cyclone. Now that was a terrifying man.

Both you and Jake stood there in silence. Both too afraid to speak or move. You’d surely done it now. Your chances of getting picked for the mission were slim to none now. It was so quiet you were sure that was Jake’s heart you could hear hammering in his chest, or yours.

“That could’ve gone better.” You whispered. It almost sounded like you were yelling it was so quiet in the hanger. The rest of the class was surely in the classroom waiting on you. They definitely heard everything on the radio. You were sure one of them heard the nice ass chewing that just commenced.

“Fuck.” He ran his hands across his face through his hair. You watched as the emotions crossed his face and ended in anger, directed right at you, “What the fuck was that?”

Was he really blaming you? “What was what? We were training.”

“You wouldn’t stop.” He frowned.

“Neither would you!” You mimicked him with a frown right on your face.

“Because you wouldn’t!” He could never be wrong, could he? It’d always be your fucking fault. He was so exhausting. You didn’t know how much more of him you could realistically take. While the highs were very high with the man, the lows were just as low. It was a roller coaster ride you suddenly wanted off of.

“Oh my god. Are you serious right now?” Eyes wide you walked away from him, quickly.

He followed quickly, “What is that you say? As a heart attack.”

You stopped so quickly he almost ran right into you, “Has anybody every told you how insufferable you are?”

The smirk that crossed his face almost made you want to slap him. That’d give him far too much satisfaction though, “All the time.”

Your face saddened just enough to get to him for a second, “I didn’t really think you were Hangman. I thought that was just a front. That’s so… disappointing.” Walking away slowly this time he didn’t dare follow. You hit him right where it hurt. You really thought he was an asshole. All that work he did put in was shattered in an instant. He had to admit he was being a bit of a dick.

Once he made it back to the classroom you were already sitting with Jax. Not daring to take a single look in his direction. Jake saw the comforting squeeze Jax gave you. He knew it was because of him.

Mav went on and on about how we weren’t clicking as a team. You had a sneaking suspicion it was because of the tension between you and Jake. Almost everybody seemed fine besides the two of you. You could only look at your notebook in shame, not daring to look towards the front like you always did.

“Alright. Go to lunch. I don’t want you reporting here after. Get to the Hard Deck. We’ll be playing some good old fashioned dogfight football to get you all gelling just a little bit better.” Mav walked out of the room followed by Kasper.

“The hell is dogfight football?” You asked Jax who looked just as confused as you were.

Bob so kindly explained as best he could. You just knew you were in for a hell of time. After changing and riding to the beach with Jax you both made it out to where most of the squadron already stood. You looked over to Phoenix and Halo noticing they were both in just sports bras and shorts. The t-shirt was already clinging to the sweat on your skin. You really should’ve thought this one through. You pulled on Jax giving him the help me face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked once the two of you were out of ear shot.

“Please tell me you have a tank in your car? I’m too hot in this t-shirt.” Your expression must not have given off how panicked you felt.

He shrugged, “Take it off then?”

You sighed, “What about the big ass scar down my back Jax?”

Scrunching his face, he thought for a second before responding, “Just take it off. Nobody will even notice. It’s a bunch of jacked up dudes ready to go.”

“Really?” You looked at him skeptically.

“Yes, Y/N. You’re fine.”

Rolling your eyes, you slid the shirt off. Back facing the rest of the group. Jax would’ve been right if Jake wasn’t already staring right at you. His eyes crinkled as he took in the sight before him. An almost footlong scar racing down your back had his eyes nearly bugging. That pilot at the bar wasn’t lying. It was you? You should’ve died before Jake was ever going to meet you? That realization just wasn’t okay with him.

His heart started racing as he watched you walk back down the beach towards them with Jax. It hit him that he absolutely loved training with you. There was a world where you probably didn’t make it out of that crash alive and he had to do this without you. That also wasn’t okay with him.

The whole situation wasn’t sitting quite right with him. He was beginning to realize how much he enjoyed having you entangled in his life. How much he loved riling you up. How much he adored seeing you smile at his expense. He loved that smart ass mouth that always seemed to put him in his place. He cherished your presence. You.

He knew he had a whole lot of work to do to change your mind. He was going to have to do the most un-Hangman like things to win you back over. He was going to be himself. That’s when you smiled the most around him. He could do it.

He lined up opposite you on the line, “Hey pretty lady.” He smiled warmly. It turned into a frown when he saw you roll your eyes.

“Really, Hangman?” You spoke his call sign with so much disdain it made the comment sting that much worse.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, “For earlier, for now. For everything I’ve put you through.” He spoke quickly before the ball was snapped. You gave him a funny look before running off for the play. Was he being serious?

When you lined back up with the next play, he just looked at you, waiting for you to respond, “You’re not joking?”

“No! I’m sorry, I… I have no excuse.” He sighed almost forgetting you were in the middle of a game before you took off again. You were loving this game right now. These runs gave you a chance to think. Not that you’d come up with a good response. You weren’t very good when it came to this stuff. Talking about feelings.

“Okay.” You nodded gaining the courage to look up at him.

His concentration on you broke as he smiled hearing that response. It wasn’t great but it certainly wasn’t bad. You weren’t all out rejecting him at this point, “Okay. Yeah?” He nodded hoping to get something else out of you.

“Yeah. Yeah okay. Sure.” You weren’t sure why any words were coming to your brain.

He laughed at that, “What’s your favorite color?” He asked changing the subject.

You raised an eyebrow before darting off. This time you caught the football scoring one for your team. Jax was right, nobody seemed to give a shit about that red scar. Even if they did, they did a good job hiding it. That or your squad mates threatened them. It certainly wasn’t out of the question.

Both you and Jake were tapped out. He sat next to you again, waiting patiently for your answers, “Sometimes it’s blue, the color of the sky on a bright sunny summer day blue. Sometimes it’s green. Like when you find that perfect Christmas tree on a cool winter day. And sometimes it’s orange. The orange of the sunset when you’re at the beach on a crisp fall night. There’s nothing like it really.” You weren’t lying. Your favorite color rotated just like the seasons seemed too.

“Wow. I was just going to say green.” He coolly scratched the back of his head suddenly feeling terribly less than. How could he keep up with you if that’s how you thought? He knew you were smart not downright brilliant.

You smiled looking up to him, “Nothing wrong with that. You can like green. There doesn’t need to be a reason.”

He shook his head, “And here you are comforting me.” He was at a loss for words as he studied you expression. Suddenly he didn’t give a shit if Bradley or Javy walked over and watched. He didn’t seem to care. It was about you. How could he have been so damn blind not to see it?

You shrugged, “It’s the truth, so.” Playing it off as nothing more you tuned your head towards the setting sun outlining your squad and the dagger squad playing football.

He smiled seeing you so coy. He’d found a weakness. Something he wasn’t planning to exploit, “Do you have any siblings?”

You nodded thinking of your past life. A life so innocent compared to this one, “I do. A younger brother. What about you?”

“A couple of sisters. A few older and one younger.”

You grinned, “Lucky you. Sisters are a blessing.”

“So are brothers.” He countered knowing it’d get a rise out of you.

Raising your eyebrows you continued, “I didn’t say they weren’t.”

He sighed knowing he had to let the ego drop, “They are a blessing. Each one of them. They’d be horrified at how I’ve been treating ya sweetheart.” The term of endearment tumbled out so easily it almost slipped by you.

You prayed your foundation was heavy enough to hide the blush. Having a sneaking suspicion, it wasn’t you continued talking trying to distract him, “If you could only eat one type of cuisine for the rest of your life what would it be?”

He grinned, “I was supposed to be asking you the questions. But to answer yours, it’d have to be Tex-mex. I could eat it all day every day.”

You nodded smiling wide not saying a word.

“What?” His smile was unlike one you’d seen on him. It seemed so genuine and sincere. Like he was smiling at you for this first time.

“That’s the most Texas answer you could’ve given me.” Your grin only widened seeing his smile turn to shock then guffaw.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Can I tell you something?” He asked once his laughter died down. Nodding your head, you watched the game unfold before you. Smiling as you saw Berlin tackle Jax out of the corner of your eye. The boys were having a hell of time.

“Shoot.”

“I find you fascinating.” He stopped before he went on. He knew a big confession was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t yet. Not until you trusted him. He’d started to burn the bridge and he was desperately trying to put that fire out before the bridge snapped.

Shaking your head slightly in disbelief you had a hard time believing him, “What?”

“Absolutely fascinating. And incredibly beautiful. One of the best pilots I’ve flown with. The most unafraid person I’ve worked with… I could go on…”

You stopped him, “Don’t. Thank you.” You smiled to yourself gleefully. How this man could make you feel such things in such a short amount of time.

“Anytime sweetheart.” His goofy grin was noticed by almost everybody playing in front of them. Jax wanted to slap it right off his face. What was more concerning was your face. You looked utterly taken by him. A look he’d quite literally never seen on it before. He wanted so desperately to disapprove but he knew it was bound to happen. The way one moment you complained and the next you had nothing but good things to say gave him whiplash.

Eyes moving up to the handsome man you had to wonder where all of this was coming from? Did your words actually mean something to him? You’d only known him for three fucking weeks, but it felt like three years at this rate. The intensity between the two of you was bubbling up and hitting a head, “Where’s all this coming from Jake?” You had to ask. As fun as it was to play twenty questions with the man you needed to know.

Did he want to tell you he knew? How much your words from earlier already affected him and seeing that fresh scar running down the right side of your spine pushed him over the edge of realization. He liked you. Maybe even more than liked you. He’d never admit that out loud though. He’d never met a woman so sure of herself. It all made sense now. Why he wanted to be around you. Why he found enjoyment poking fun at you. How it hurt him when you were hurt from Mav’s words and his. He realized he never wanted to be the cause of your anguish. Only the root of all your happiness.

“I met a pilot friend of yours at the bar a few weeks ago, Red.” He stated so causally.

Giving him a quizzical look, you had to wonder how in the hell had he known Red? Your guy. Your partner in the sky, “He didn’t tell you…” You paused not sure what the hell you wanted to say. It was never easy admitting when you went down. Nonetheless shouldn’t have survived. It was awkward to talk about. Like you weren’t good enough at your job.

Jake shook his head quickly, “He didn’t say who, he just told Javy and I what happened.”

“How did you know…” Again, it suddenly clicked. The fucking scar that dragged along your back. Nobody noticed it except for Jake, “The scar.” You stated continuing to look ahead letting out the breath you had been holding in.

“He didn’t realize we’d be playing football when he told us the story.” Jake laughed trying to ease your discomfort. He wouldn’t lie about it. That was no way.

“Yeah.” You smiled softly, “I don’t blame him. I’m just glad he’s back. He was talking about retiring for good.” He wasn’t here. He was with Hondo training a few new guys all the ins and outs of the F-18.

“And you?” Jake asked.

You hadn’t really been asked that in the six months since the accident. It was assumed that once the Doctor said you’d make a full recovery you’d be right back on track. That’s what you did. Not even sure if you’d properly processed all the trauma you went through just months prior, “It wasn’t even a thought.”

“Well, I’m glad.” Jake smiled down at you even though you were so intent on staring straight ahead, “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Are you?” You hadn’t a clue where that came from. It’s not like Jake was the worst person you’d come across, but he certainly had shown you a side you weren’t particularly fond of. Even if he had been complimenting you moments before. Finding some courage, you looked back up at him curiously.

He took a second to come up with the right words, “I’m so happy you’re here. You’ve made me a better pilot. A better person. I know how I’ve come off to you and it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. When I saw that scar along your back, just like Red was describing I realized a few things. There was a chance that you could’ve never had made it here. You could’ve died before I even got the chance to meet you. It made me realize just how important you are to me. I… I can only apologize for the way I’ve treated you before, but I promise you I won’t do it again.”

Placing your palms behind you in the sand you leaned back taking in every word. Jake was a whole lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them, “Okay.”

“Okay.” He continued smiling knowing you weren’t terribly good at words when it came to stuff like this. The dichotomy between your personality, a spit fire in the sky yet too shy to say a word when it came to emotions, “Would you be willing to give me a second shot? I won’t disappoint you this time.”

You nodded, “Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice and I’ll find somebody to kick your ass.”

A hearty laugh escaped his lips, “I’ll let you kick it, how does that sound darling?”

Grinning and nodding it felt good to talk to the man you’ve been harboring a crush on, “That sounds amazing. You better not mess it up again or I’m coming for it.”

“You know, I completely believe you.”

“Good.” You giggled feeling all the tension finally leave your body. It felt so damn good letting it all out in front of him.

He sighed. Looking at him fully you could see there was something bothering him. Like he wanted to keep going but was holding back his tongue.

“Spit it out Jake.” You wanted to roll your eyes, but he was trying. Having battles in his head on how to best handle the situation.

“Are you okay? He said you should’ve died. That… that can’t be easy.”

Were you okay? You still loved being up in the air. You loved everything about flying. In fact, the accident made you only want to become a better one. But were you okay personally? You thought you were. You’d been to a couple of military required therapy sessions that didn’t do a whole lot for you.

“I think so. Haven’t really thought about it much.” Admitting that to him was hard. You were a sure person. Think wasn’t in your vernacular, you knew. But you didn’t know if you were okay. You thought you were, but could you really be?

“Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, “Not anymore. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t remember much. I blacked out.” You took a moment before continuing, “I ejected to late. It’s my own fault but they were going to kill him. I should’ve pulled the handle sooner. I don’t know what happened. I was too close to the ground…” You paused not really wanting to think too much into it, “I think the cockpit cut me on the way out. I was spinning out. I don’t remember. It just hurt.” You blinked back a few tears that flooded your eyes just thinking about it. You were not okay. You weren’t a crier in the first place, so this was odd for you. Sitting back up you used the back of your hand to wipe away the few that fell. Fuck.

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder giving it a comforting squeeze, “Hey, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I just want you to know that I think you’re insanely strong for being able to fly the way you do after going through that. I don’t think I could.”

Wiping away the remaining tears you shook your head, “Bull. You’d be right back up in the air. You’re too much like me. Can’t let it go. Not yet anyway.”

The two of you were so immersed in the conversation both of you missed Mav calling you back into the huddle. Your eyes were trained on him as his eyes were on you. It was only Jax’s whistle that tore you from the gaze.

“Come on.” He gave you a hand once he stood up, “Better go join the group or we’ll get another ass chewing from Mav.”

Placing your hand in his felt so right, so natural, “I’d rather not go through that again.” He pulled you up. Walking back over he broke towards his squad as you nestled yourself in between Berlin and Jax.

“I don’t like the way he keeps looking at you Dory.” Jax spoke far too loudly. Berlin, Cairo, and a few others snickered knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Shut up Jax.” Giving him the look your turned your attention back towards Mav.

Berlin decided he wanted in on the conversation, “Were you not just complaining about him, oh I don’t know… yesterday?”

You punched his arm playfully, “Yeah, so?”

“It means we don’t like the way he’s looking at you.” Cairo chimed in from in front of you.

Raising your eyebrows, you looked at them all skeptically, “You’re all so nosy.”

“And I don’t like the way you’re looking at him!” Jax gave you a wide-eyed look like you’d failed to tell him something.

“Shut up.” You pushed him.

“Oh? Does Y/N have a crush?” Berlin quipped earning the laughs of everyone around you both. Including some of the Dagger Squad.

Rolling your eyes, you resigned to flipping him off instead not daring to disagree.

“Well boys we lost her. She’s not fighting back.” Jax started cracking up.

“If it’s any consolation, he won’t shut up about you. Pretty sure he feels the same way.” Rooster leaned in smirking with that damn mustache on his face.

You put your hand over your face avoiding everybody’s gaze. The random burst of Oh’s made Jake turn towards the group you were by with that same genuine smile. You’d deal with all the teasing in the world if it meant you got to see that smile again.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Jake’s voice broke your stride as you turned towards him.

Jax continued walking not waiting up on you, “Be good Y/N.” He snickered as he walked back towards his car.

“Let me give you a ride back to base?” He was practically begging for some more time alone with you. No matter how short of a ride it was.

“Sure.” You followed him to his truck. Jake being the newfound gentleman he really was rushed over to open the door and close it for you.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t help but to smile up at him as he slid into his seat.

Nodding his head he turned the key, “Anytime sweetheart. Really. Anytime.”

He pulled out driving back to base, “I heard what your friends said earlier.”

“You did?” The blush that coated your cheeks was probably immaculate. He was so forward with everything it made you want to scream. He put you right on the spot with that one. You’d normally dance around the emotions rather than full on confront them.

“Mhmm. I might have a crush on you too.” He said so nonchalantly it made you double take.

“Really?” You were sure your voice was three octaves higher as your eyes widened in realization. How could he be so cool about it?

He nodded taking his eyes off the road for just a second to reassure you, “What’s not to love? Beautiful, kind, tough, smart as hell, the whole package.”

“Wow. Are you sure?” You didn’t know

He chuckled taking your hand in his, “I’m so positive about this. I know we’re stationed across the country, but we can figure it out. Moves can be made. Promotions can be had. I want to try this with you. If you’d let me?”

The smile that burst onto your face felt incredible, “Hell yeah. Let’s do it.” You answered before you could really process it. But your brain knew before you did because you were thrilled.

He squeezed your hand tight as he parked the truck. Seemingly the last group to make it back. Surely the rest of the squadron was waiting on the two of you, “Yeah?”

You nodded looking so happily up at him, “Yes! Yeah, who knows what’ll happen? Plus, you know I have a whole squadron ready to hunt you down if you fuck it up.”

“Trust me, I’m not messing this one up.”

Taglist: @dempy @djs8891 @senjoritanana @thataviationlovingchick @alldaysdreamers @krismdavis @fangirlvibez @shelbycillian @trolostodos @iprettymuchsimpforeveryone @queerqueenlynn @peacelilyplants @hellobroadwaydreamer @themusicalweirdo

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frukmerunning · 6 months

Text

if the hetalia characters had a hanukkah party

Austria - he’s hosting so naturally he’s made Germany prepare everything for him. From polishing the menorah to frying latkes, he’s watched Germany do it all. He has, however, prepared some beautiful arrangements of hanukkah tunes to play everyone after they light the candles.

Germany - He’s done all the work so after the candles are lit he’s going to indulge in a lot of (kosher) wine and get belligerently drunk on a Thursday night.

France - he brought the wine of course! Austria will tell him that wine isn’t a part of hanukkah festivities but he also gets drunk anyway. France also gets into a tussle with England and they knock the menorah over and almost set Austria’s house on fire (this happens every year)

Italy - he pushes people out of the way so he can be the one to light the candles but Austria never lets him. He also brings enough hamantaschen to feed an army and arrives just before sundown. He hates sufganiyot and makes it everyone’s problem, and he also cries when he loses the dreidel game.

Japan - He’s so scarily good at the dreidel game and it pisses everyone off. Overall Japan doesn’t really know what’s going on and he’s just happy that he was invited. He ends up giving all of his gelt to Italy at the end of the night.

America - He definitely brings something that isn’t kosher (on purpose or accidentally) but he also brought gifts for everyone! And he has the ugliest hanukkah sweater known to man. America also really leans into the whole ‘cooking with oil’ thing and also brings a deep fried turkey, it’s actually really good and everyone has a good time.

Russia - gets way more into dreidel than you’d expect, he and Japan are going to start WW3 over chocolate gelt. He was the one who told America to bring something that isn’t kosher. He himself brings a nice vodka infused potato kugel.

Romano - He makes everyone get into a heated debate on what the best pairing is for latkes (sour cream, obviously). He cries when America eats his with ketchup.

Prussia - He spends the entire night telling Austria how much better Christmas is but in reality he has planned 8 nights of very sweet gifts to give to his favorite aristocrat :) He was also the reason France and England got in a fight.

Canada - he brought weed brownies but spends the entire night stressing over whether weed is kosher.

China - China keeps trying to get everyone to bet real money in the dreidel game, unsuccessfully. He also has no real clue what’s going on and spends the entire night eating on the couch while he heckles the dreidel players.

England - He supplied the gelt because no one would trust him with anyone else. He swears that France cheated in their last game but in reality Prussia swiped some of his gelt while no one was looking. The menorah fire ruins his hand-made hanukkah sweater but France buys him a new one the next day and everyone is happy.

#hetalia #aph japan #aph italy #aph germany #aph england #aph america #aph france #aph russia #aph china #aph romano #aph austria #aph prussia

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suratan-zir · 2 years

Text

I've never been this close to leaving tumblr forever than I am now. Y'all are so humanistic, so righteous and merciful, when it's not your country that is being bombed into the stone age, not your people tortured, executed, shot and thrown into a mass grave with their hands tied simply for being citizens of a certain country, speaking a certain language. Not your babies being torn apart by missiles, buried under rubble. Not your relatives held in one of the many torture dungeons, being electrocuted through wires attached to their genitals. Not your houses leveled down, burned with everything inside, every little thing you loved or cared for.

Hell, we can even tone it down a notch. It's not you who is being left without electricity and water, without heating in winter, because it's not you who russia is trying to beat/freeze into submission. It's not you going to bed to the sound of an air raid siren and wondering if you'll wake up tomorrow. It's not you receiving insults, slurs and threats from russians. No, they probably don't have any problem with you, but even if they do, luckily for you, you don't speak russian. Because if you did, you could go to literally any place they hang out, any voice or text chat, any social media and ask them yourself. If only you'd spoke Russian, you could ask them what they think about the genocide carried out by their country, their people. And then you wouldn't have any more questions. Then you wouldn't dare to say it's "racist" to call russians what they are - murderers, thieves and their accomplices.

I never said that all russians support this war, this genocide. And I will never say it, it's just statistically impossible. But many of them do, and another large portion simply doesn't care, which in my opinion is even worse. I have less disgust and hatred for russians who say: "go-go pootin, all khokhols must die", then to those who mumble: "I'm not into politics". Because you can't afford to stay neutral and passive when your country is trying to obliterate an entire nation.

You know, those missiles that kill our people and destroy our infrastructure, they are launched from "peaceful" russian cities. Warplanes that fly to kill us fly - they fly over the heads of the "innocent" russians, who are filming it on their phones and cheering on. The only times they would be sad or pissed about it is when those planes suddenly crush on their homes. Or when something flies into their city in exchange for those missiles that flew out of there. This is when they get mad and demand to kill us more effectively.

Lately we are seeing many protests from the mothers and wives of those "poor" russian men who have been drafted into army. Do you know what they are protesting against? Of course you don't, because you don't speak russian, you don't care enough to find out. No, they aren't protesting against the war, genocide, bombings of cities of a neighboring country. They don't demand for the war to end. They demand that their sons and husbands not be sent to the very front line, they demand that they be placed on the 2-3 line of defense, where it is safe. Or they demand better equipment for their men, again, to kill the citizens of a neighboring country more effectively. Because they are not against the genocide, they just don't want their men to hurt during it. Those of us who understand russian language don't need to look at any polls and statistics. We can just ask them ourselves, and we hear their responds very clearly. Even from our own relatives who live in russia or from our former friends. And I wouldn't wish this horrible realization on anyone. Now there are more and more russians who don't support this war. Because they are losing it. They would have absolutely no problem with it if they could "take Kyiv in two days" as was planned. But now they have regrets.

I'm not asking you to blame and ostracize all russians. That's not the point I'm making here. But maybe - just maybe - you can't forgive people for things they didn't do to you? Maybe you can't be forgiving on behalf of others? If you live somewhere in the US, the russians can never harm you, your city will not be bombed, your relatives won't be kidnapped and tortured. Of course you don't hate them, of course you don't condemn them - it's not because you are morally superior - it's because you literally don't have to suffer from their aggression, either physical nor verbal. Your life isn't constantly endangered because of this particular country and people. Of course you can forgive and defend them all you want, and pat yourself on the head afterwards. Such a nice kind human being you are, not at all insensitive.

It's not like there are people who lost their homes, their loved ones. People living under constant shelling, without power and heat, people who survive day after day against all odds. But those people aren't as merciful as you. Only you are the beacon of humanism in this unfair world, good for you.

#ukraine

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mactavishwritings · 1 year

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hc for 141 bros w/ reader who is weirdly tolerant of any sort of weather. in a tropical countries scotching heat? reader has layered two long sleeve tops already and hasn't seem to drop a sweat. in the cold climates of russia or canada? just a turtleneck and a jacket will do, because; "i'm invincible! i'm basically god."

(ps, are you a mdni kinda account? i wanna follow you but i'm a minor whwhehejrjr)

i made a post regarding your question! but basically, as long as you are not reading my NSFW content, yes. But I STG do not be the one to ruin it for everyone <3

Ghost

he is always so confused. He will try and help you out, but he has no idea how you function. He will be covered in sweat and you will try and cuddle him bc you're so cold and he will be tempted to kick you out of bed. he just doesn't understand it and will just be there to support you through each fluxion.

Soap

when you told him you were freezing when it was 90 degrees out, he thought that you had a fever so he went over to feel your forehead, realizing that no, you were just cold.

Gaz

he is BIG BABY when it comes to weather. like when he is cold, he WILL make it everyone else's problem. So he will be so confused when you say that you are completely fine in the cold. He immediately demands that you cuddle him for warmth because he just simply cannot function so he mainly uses it to his advantage.

Price

he is kind of similar in the sense that he forces himself to just Deal With It. So when suddenly he sees you brute-forcing the cold. He just kinda chuckles as you stand next to him in just a long sleeve while it's snowing. he wrapped his arm around you and asked if you were okay with the weather. You just nodded and say that you were practically god and didn't need to be weighed down by a coat.

#ask #request #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #cod imagine #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #call of duty mw2 #modern warfare 2

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malk1ns · 8 months

Note

sidgeno, 32, things you said right after hello

thanks for this one! prompts are here :)

“Wow, you’re huge,” Sid blurts out, Malkin's hand still clasped in his. “You must have grown, what, two inches since I saw you in May?”

Immediately, his face goes hot. For a brief minute, he clings to the hope that maybe he hadn’t actually said that, but over Malkin’s shoulder he can see Mario wince and Sarge bite back a laugh, so no—he really just said that out loud, and oh god, he’s still holding Malkin’s hand.

He drops it quickly and takes a large step back, mustering up the most normal-feeling smile he can manage. Based on Malkin’s quizzical, slightly amused gaze, he’s not quite managing.

Sid hadn’t told anyone what happened in Latvia.

He’d made a point to seek Malkin out—Zhenya, he’d asked to be called, but Sid’s been trying to get back to something slightly less incriminating whenever he thought about Malkin this summer—wanting to actually meet him, now that they were going to be teammates. He’d heard Mario talking about the situation with Metallurg, the pressure they were putting on Malkin to re-sign and stay in Russia, and Sid thought that if he could just talk to him, get to know him a little off-ice, he could convince him to come to Pittsburgh in the fall after all.

They’d gotten to know each other more than just a little.

Before Sarge even opens his mouth to translate, Malkin steps forward, closing the distance between him and Sid, and claps him lightly on the shoulder. “Yes, now you’re even shorter,” he says, poking his tongue between his teeth.

Sid remembers that, how Malkin—oh, hell, how Zhenya—always made that face when he was pretty sure his joke was going to land. He’s doing better now than he had at Worlds; Sid remembers how hard they’d struggled at first to talk.

It got easier later on.

Sarge makes a surprised noise, and Sid starts. He’d almost forgotten they weren’t alone. “You didn’t tell me you’ve been practicing,” he says to Zhenya, continuing on in amused-sounding Russian. Whatever he’s saying, it’s making Zhenya blush.

Mario’s eyebrows are so high they’re practically in his hairline, but once Sarge stops his teasing diatribe, he clears his throat. “Dinner’s ready,” he says, gesturing to the hallway that leads to the dining room. “We can keep talking there, Nathalie won’t be happy if the food goes cold while we’re all standing around by the door.”

Sid cringes a little and moves to fall in line behind Mario and Sarge, but Zhenya grabs his arm, holding him in place as the other two exit the foyer.

“Sid,” Zhenya murmurs, reeling him in. “I miss. Four months, it’s a long time.”

Against his better judgment and everything he’d sternly told himself all summer when he caught his mind wandering, Sid melts in Zhenya’s grasp. “Yeah,” he says, putting a hand on Zhenya’s waist. “It was too long. I wanted to call, but the long-distance charge…”

“Same for me. I think, maybe I ask JP to call for me, but then it’s problems with the contract, and…” Zhenya shrugs, frowning a little before refocusing on Sid. “But now I’m here.”

“Yeah,” Sid says again, breathless this time, pressing them closer together, until he can feel the heat from Zhenya’s body. “I thought—well, I saw the news, and I wasn’t sure, but I hoped you’d come. I thought about you so much.”

The corners of Zhenya’s eyes crinkle. He looks exhausted, and his suit is wrinkled, but Sid’s never seen anything better. “I tell you I come for you,” he says, and his voice goes sly, even as he widens his eyes in feigned innocence. “You tell me to, I do. You forget?”

Sid swallows. He didn’t forget a single second of it—the tentative first conversation, the beers they snuck into Sid’s hotel room when his roommate was out and they both had a day off the next day, which turned into Zhenya’s mouth on his, Zhenya’s dick in his hand. Every single stolen moment for the entire tournament had found them tangled up together, and Sid couldn’t forget it if he tried.

Zhenya’s still watching him, and his eyes have softened. He reaches for Sid’s face, ghosting his fingers over Sid’s cheekbone before thumbing over Sid’s mouth, tugging his lower lip down.

Sid lets him. He’s standing in Mario Lemieux’s front foyer, and his newest teammate and god willing the missing piece that will bring the Penguins success, God willing, is practically groping him where anyone could see, and Sid lets him.

“You should stay,” he says, darting a glance at the hallway and stepping back. “After dinner. I know you’re tired, but we…maybe we could say you want to see my Playstation. It’s in my room upstairs, we’d be alone. I can drive you back to Sarge’s later.”

“Yes,” Zhenya says, practically before Sid’s finished speaking. “Yes, I want to stay with you.”

#i made geno a lot better at english than he really was his rookie year here #i'd like to imagine that with extra ~motivation from sid he'd have applied himself a bit more over that summer #sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic

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atom-writings · 1 year

Note

Sleepy cuddling with Ivan :3c

(HWS Russia x Reader) Sleepy Affection!

(Gender Neutral) Scenario ~ A/N WAIT THIS IS A A THOUSAND WORD.S WHOOPS. UM. IM NORMAL ABOUT RUSSIA (LYING LYING) I HAVE NOT BEEN DREAMING ABOUT THIS FOR YEARS (LYING I AM A LIAR I AM LYING)

Trigger Warning: None, just Fluff!

Meteorologists had predicted a large snowfall. While you had told Ivan that you would leave before it got too bad, that plan ended up dead in the water. Or more accurately, dead in the snow. Before you knew it, the ground nearly rose to your knees. That’s fine, right? It’s really no problem, staying with your boyfriend. That was… until the power went out… along with the heat.

He tugged on your shirt lightly, rubbing the collar between two of his fingers. In the background, the fire crackled quietly. The scent of a warm fireplace nearly drowned out your boyfriend’s faded cologne. He always smelled faintly of roses, something close to what you’d find in your grandmother’s home.

Months earlier, you recalled him mentioning that he had lived in this home for centuries. Which, to be fair you could’ve guessed. Normally it would be nothing more than an annoyance, how it creaked and groaned keeping you up at night. But now, its ancient architecture meant you two had nothing to worry about. The fireplace meant you two could make it through the night in comfort.

So there you two lay. A short distance away from the fireplace cuddled up on an old mattress he had dragged downstairs. On top of you lay layers of quilts and ratty old blankets, all of which smelled of must and people you’d never meet.

“Крошка? Are you still awake?” His voice startled you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah…”

“Why?” He readjusted himself, sitting up and facing you.

“W-Why? This isn’t the ideal situation to sleep in, Vanya.” You replied, looking up at him in confusion. He paused for a minute, lost in thought, before reaching out and holding your shoulder tightly.

“I understand. We just have to get through one night. I am sure your hotel will have the power back by then, and you will be alright.”

He laid back down, “Will you let me warm you?”

A light pink rose to your cheeks, and you rolled to look away from him. Sure, you had been plenty affectionate with each other before, but nothing like this, “If you’re fine doing so… aren’t you cold too?”

“Of course. But I have been cold many times before,” Ivan responds as he presses himself against your back, “Besides, I cannot help but be slightly delighted by this arrangement.”

“You’re happy about this?” Your tone rises.

“As I said, only slightly. It reminds me of many nights I have had before.” He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, drawing you closer. You can feel his hot breath on the back of your neck, along with his eyes resting intently on you.

“I would have thought that an immortal would try to ignore any memories. Don’t they just make you sad?”

“Sometimes, yes. The world has changed very much. But I try to not let that bother me. It is all about looking on the bright side. Years ago, I could not have been seen with you. But now…” Ivan leans forward, laying his head in the crook of your neck. “We can be here… together.”

Smiling to yourself at his sudden affection, you begin tracing light patterns on his arms. Quickly, you hear him sigh, muffled by your neck.

“Be the romantic all you want, I still want our power back at least.” You joke.

“Really? I do not mind.”

“Psh, of course, you don’t. But I’m a little used to the comforts of modern life.” He returns your playful tone with a smile.

“I enjoy this. It reminds me of nights spent with my old family. We would have to sleep like this often in the winter as well.” Although he smiles, you can hear his tone drop.

Although you had been dating for almost a year now, he rarely talked about his family. You had gathered that he had sisters… at least one… and maybe a brother at some point. There were pictures of this home, filled with people, placed everywhere throughout the home. Yet, they never seemed to be the same people. And anytime you would become curious as to why he would brush your questions off.

“Your family?”

“We never had much money. I was lucky to receive this home from the Tsar many centuries ago. It protected us well.” He lets go momentarily, just to grasp for your hand as his voice falters.

You wiggle out of his hold, turning around to face him. His eyes soft, lost in memory, suddenly transfixed on you as you grabbed his hand. He leaned into your touch as you caressed his cheek and squeezed his hand tightly.

“It’s nice to know you have happy memories with them. Whenever you mention them usually, you seem so sad. I can’t stand to see you like that.”

Ivan closes his eyes, relaxing his tense face. “Those are not happy memories. It makes me sad to think about those why we had to huddle in those winter nights.”

“Then why did you bring it up?” Your face turns to concern as you begin running your hands through his soft, silvery hair.

“Because I am not sad right now. Regardless of how it reminds me of my old family.”

“H- Why? I know I would be upset if I were you right now.”

He opens his eyes, staring intently into your own, “Because I have done this with my old family,” he smiles lovingly, “and now I have done it with you.”

As you look up at him in confusion, he simply draws his quilts tighter to the two of you. Grinning, he continues, “I did not think I would ever do this again. It means that even in this world I do not always recognize, I will still find my new family.”

Bringing your hand, still tightly holding onto his own, up to his face, he kisses your knuckles lightly, “You will be my new family. We are together here, like I was once with my family, and that is all that matters, любимый.”

Despite the intense emotionality of what he just declared, his face betrayed nothing but peace. “V-Vanya…” you pause, “I love you.”

“I love you too. While you sleep, I will make sure you are safe.” He put one hand behind your head, pulling you forward to kiss your forehead.

“Thank you, my love.” You say before closing your eyes, leaning back into his chest.

“Сладких снов,” he whispers, before falling asleep to the crackling fire himself. With you safe in his arms, everything felt just as he had wished it to be for centuries.

#ivan tag <3 #ivan my husband my husband ivan #i love him sososososososososoosoososoososo much it makes me ILL!!!!! I AM ILL OVER THIS BIG MAN!!!!#aph russia x reader #hws russia x reader #heta tag #hetalia x reader #hetalia imagines

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 23 days

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New SpaceTime out Friday

SpaceTime 20240524 Series 27 Episode 63

Some of the universe’s oldest stars found in our own backyard

Astronomers have discovered three of the oldest stars in the universe in the halo of the Milky Way Galaxy.

Juice a year into its mission to Jupiter

The Jupiter Icy Moons Explorer or Juice spacecraft has just celebrated its first year in space as it continues its eight year journey to the Jovian ice moons Ganymede, Callisto, and Europa.

Russia test launch their new heavy-lift Angara-A5 rocket

The Kremlin have undertaken a successful test launch of Russia’s new heavy-lift Angara-A5 rocket.

The Science Report

246 million more older adults projected to be exposed to dangerous acute heat by 2050.

Junk food linked to a higher risk of over 30 different physical and mental health and sleep problems.

Kids and playground gossip.

Skeptics guide to another bigfoot sighting.

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States. The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science. SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research. The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network. Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor. Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. Later, Gary became part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and was one of its first presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth. The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually. However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage. Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently. StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016. Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #nasa #astrophysics #esa #spacetimewithstuartgary #starstuff #spacetime #nasa photos #jwst #hubble space telescope

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danosrosegarden · 1 year

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could you do something fluffy or smutty with my hubby Pierre?! There’s a carnal desire in the fiber of my bones that NEEDS more content with him :3

NSFW under the cut!

Yada yada love Pierre yada yada pretty boy yada yada agree there’s not enough content with him yada yada KINK LIST.

♡ Pierre is much more concerned with the romance in his relationship with you than the sexual aspects…but that carries through to sex, too. He’ll never leave you cold and alone after the fact…prepare to be smothered with soft cuddles and quiet kisses in the moonlight-painted glow of your bedroom, when the air is still thick with heavy heat.

♡ Breeding. I mean…that’s what people did back then, is just have bunches of kids. He goes wild for the way your body changes. He’ll make love to you (because that’s what he does, rather than just fucking) multiple times a day and hold you close in the glowing heat of the aftermath, hoping this was the time it really stuck. If not, well, sorry, he’ll just have to keep going once you’re not so sensitive. You don’t complain.

♡ An intelligent partner gets him going. Pierre has been made to feel like the odd one out at every social gathering he’s been to, with his tendency to ramble and get “out of control” with his passionate speeches. People stare a lot. So to find somebody who might, for instance, match his level of eagerness on discussing Napoleon’s invasion of Russia or philosophical literature…well, he’s in love. And ashamedly, your bright eyes and enthusiastic conversations secretly make him painfully hard and leaking at the tip. Which leads me to my next bullet point…

♡ Ramblefucking! Who doesn’t love it? Not Pierre! He wants to hear all those gorgeous little thoughts inside your head while he pumps in and out, gently but firmly. Don’t hold anything back from him.

♡ The king of being a switch. He has no problem taking the reins and holding your body with a tight grip, making you squirm and clench on his cock. But he also adores watching you push him down and take what’s yours. He’s yours, after all, wholly and lovingly. <3

#Eli’s impure thoughts #Danonation #Paul Dano #Pierre Bezukhov #War and Peace #Pierre Bezukhov x reader #Pierre Bezukhov x you #Pierre Bezukhov x Y/N

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solarpunkpresentspodcast · 10 days

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Is This the Last Dance Before the Lights Go Out?

I hate to say it, because it’s not very solarpunk, but it feels a bit fin de siècle here right now. Like we’re in the last days of normality before we fall off the cliff. Every time we have a nice moment—in the late spring splendor of the garden, for instance, or even just when walking the dog through the fields—we stop, Spouse and I, and tell one another to enjoy it. Because feels like that in the midst of the cataclysms that are about to strike us, we’re going to look back at these little things and wonder how we could have taken them for granted.

And it’s not just us who’s feeling this way. Lately, when we have dinner with friends or chat with our neighbors, at some point, the group converges suddenly upon such thoughts. Be grateful for these moments, we murmur to each other, where we can relax together on our backyard patio, drinking cold white wine, and watch the sunset. Understand that they’re a luxury. Such days are numbered and once they’re gone, not all of us, and maybe not even any of us, will see their likes again.

Who can blame us for seeping in this bittersweet gloom? A perfect storm doesn’t just seem to be looming, it feels like it’s adding elements to itself all the time.

At first it was just the global warming we are still failing to address. But now it’s clear that this global warming is not just bringing deadly heatwaves, droughts, bigger and more frequent storms, sea level rise, and flooding, it’s also threatening to collapse patterns of ocean circulation within the next decade or two such that northern European temperatures will drop to resemble those in Anchorage, Alaska, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada, and Kamchatka, Russia. On top of all the other disastrous effects this would have—including sudden massive heating of lower latitude areas along the Atlantic—just imagine what would happen if farming were no longer possible in such heavily populated places like Britain, Ireland, northern Germany (where I live now!), Poland, and all of Scandinavia. Food prices soaring all over the world, anyone? Plus widespread famine (and not just in Europe) and the collapse of major economies? If we were young enough to start over again and had the money to move, I’d say we decamp back to my home state of California before climate change turns us into actual refugees. I’m sure I’ll kick myself in five, ten, or fifteen years when saying our garden full of potatoes and the neighbor’s Muscovy ducks and alpacas will be what gets us through the winter here without starving is not just a matter of gallows humor.

Meanwhile, we’re balking at getting the renewable energy revolution going fast enough soon enough to avoid environmental disaster. And why are we balking? Because it’s “too expensive” or because we just don’t want to change anything about the way we live, although these arguments are ridiculous because the cost of doing nothing is astronomically higher and the changes are coming anyway.

We’re also refusing to reverse the widening wealth gap that’s ultimately what’s driving people into voting for the far right, neo–Nazis, and other politicians with authoritarian urges and the desire to destroy democracy… even though these people and political parties will only add fuel to the fires that need to be put out.

Then there is all that misinformation and all the conspiracy theories that seem so perfectly constructed to stop us from working sensibly together to tackle the existential environmental, economic, and social problems that are making it increasingly harder for us to thrive, or often, even to survive.

On top of all that, here in Europe, we have the added issue of the political failures of the post–Cold War period that have had us sleepwalking into a dangerous situation with a resurgently imperialistically hungry Russia. After the Wall came down and the Iron Curtain opened, European politicians thought we could just be friends and trading partners with Russia. Because Russia’s interest in selling us natural gas and crude oil would weave them into our economic world and make them value our markets enough for them never to want to wage war on us ever again. Thus would we lull them into peaceful capitalist prosperity and democracy.

Cozy in that lazy thinking, Europe dropped its guard, domesticating itself rather than its enemy. Its armies grew thin and its stocks of weapons and military machinery thinner. Today, countries like Germany would need the greater part of a decade to build up enough weapons, equipment, and trained manpower to wage even a strictly defensive war. It’s not much different for any other country in Europe. Which is not the position you want to be in when one of your neighbors starts dreaming of their glorious imperialistic past.

To hear politicians and analysts tell it, unless some political miracle convinces Putin to remove crush western democracy from his bucket list, we have three to five years to prepare for war. Such a miracle might be as simple as a heart attack. More likely it involves a sudden splurge in funding to beef up European defenses ASAP plus upcoming elections handing power over neither to the far right in Europe nor to the raging danger that is Donald Trump nor to the Republicans party that has been taken over by people who’ve lost their tether to common sense, compassion, and reality. In other words, yes, we really are talking about a miracle.

I’m no professional, but from my little perch here in Northern Germany, having as long as three to five years feels optimistic. Ukraine is all that is standing between Putin and the massive expansion of his war. If Trump and the Republicans roll into the White House, that’s got to bump up the war is coming to us timeline to... sometime next year or the one thereafter. Seems to me, anyway, because Trump & Co will pull US support out from under Ukraine faster than you can say God damn the electoral college and then she will fall.

Won’t that be the start of the wider war, for the next stops will be Baltic states, like Estonia, Latvia, Finland, Sweden, and Poland, plus neighboring countries like Moldova? Or maybe it won’t even wait that long. Knowing this danger for Estonia, Estonia’s current leader has already more or less said that, in order to save Estonia, they’ll give everything the country has, in terms of funding and military support, to stop Russia from taking Ukraine. And since Estonia is a member of NATO, as soon as they do more than send funding and equipment, doesn’t that drag a huge chunk of Europe straight into the war, even before Ukraine falls entirely to Russian aggression?

Again, I’m no professional on this front, I just live here. But likewise, it’s also hard to see how it will be as long as three to five years before we’re all at war, given how zealously Russia is working to undermine peace, prosperity, and political stability in the West and how feebly we’re counteracting this. Russia takes a mile for every inch we give them, spreading misinformation, causing destabilizing political problems, and committing not even terribly covert acts of sabotage. This sowing of dissent aims to weaken western countries and coalitions ahead of the overt war Russia plans to wage on us. We totally know this! But our politicians are too frightened to retaliate against this hybrid war against us , lest it trigger a real war between us. You can all but hear Putin laughing into our timid faces. Real war is coming anyway!

All of that (plus a bunch of other equally dismal stuff that I haven’t had room to mention) is why living in Europe right now feels like the last dance before the lights go out.

Is it any wonder my thoughts have also recently frequently turned to how such a war would unfold?

Will tanks speed down the little lane we live on? (Honestly, actually, I’ve seen that already, because I think back in summer of 2022, they were training Ukrainian soldiers to drive Marder armored vehicles around here. There was a week when every time I looked out the window, one was zipping by… and let me tell you, it’s amazing how fast these things can race by.)

Will bombs flatten our house?

What can I do to prepare for what is coming? I live in Germany, a couple of hours from the Polish border. So, there is somewhat of a buffer there, but not a huge one. It isn’t inconceivable that there might be fighting here, or that we’d be the target of drones.

I don’t mean to be self–centered about this. There’s a whole lot of destruction and carnage that has to happen to other people and other countries before battles happen here. But it’s not right to just shrug this looming war off by thinking oh, well, it won’t happen here.

I feel like, at my age, I’d make a terrible solider. Never mind that I’ve never been great at blindly following orders, I’m small, middle aged, out of shape, and full of asthma and allergies and chronic injuries, the battle scars from too much fun and soccer playing in my twenties, too much swilling of diet soda, and too much stress in my career. Yet, wouldn’t it make more sense for me to go and fight than it would for someone in their late teens or twenties (or even thirties), who has so much more of life in front of them? Spouse says, well, it would be our jobs to do all the jobs that wouldn’t be getting done if a good chunk of the young men were off fighting. We’d be farming, or helping out in hospitals, or riding around in garbage trucks. I don’t know if that would really feel like doing enough. Part of me thinks he’d be among the first to sign up if Germany gets invaded, even the current work that he’s doing would be critical to maintaining Germany’s renewable energy infrastructure.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about how we live about 100 miles from the nearest city that would likely be hit by nuclear weapons, should things get that bad. I think that means we’d be the ones to die of radiation sickness, unless we could stay in a fallout shelter for the couple of weeks it takes the most acutely dangerous radionuclides to decay away. But, of course, like everyone else here, we haven’t got one in our backyard. We don’t even have a cellar. And I don’t want to die in an old abandoned local potato cellar or in one of the dank cubbyholes that passes for a cellar under some of the neighboring houses.

So, I haven’t just started thinking, whelp, even though I finally let us work down the supplies of toilet paper and canned goods I began hoarding in February 2020, it’s time to build up the collection again. I’ve started wondering how I could maybe turn our downstairs guest bedroom into a fallout shelter. It’s already got brick walls and a concrete ceiling. They’re not thick enough, but it’s a good start. What if I bricked up the window and then lined all the walls with another layer of bricks? Would that do, so long as I solved the issue of the flimsy wooden door? Also, could we rejig our solar panels to use them as an island, isolated from the grid, so that we’d have lights and could run a pump a few hours a day to bring air in through a Hepa filter? We could pee into buckets and poop into ziploc baggies, but how would we deal with the dog? With paper, pens, pencils, and maybe even our laptops, and maybe even something as decadent as an exercise bike, at least we wouldn’t die of boredom. Oh… a radio! And batteries. I’d better add that to my mental list.

Then, the dilemma. We have our anniversary coming up. Should I buy him a Geiger counter? Or would it be better to wait until Christmas? Or his birthday early next year? Or can I put it off even longer than that? I don’t want to buy one if I don’t need to buy one, but I don’t want to wait until it’s too late and be unable to get one and then die because we left the fallout shelter too soon, or didn’t realize we had a leak that was letting in dusty radioactive fallout.

But, honestly, argh! I have never in my life been afraid of the future. I even made it through the entire 1980s without having more than the occasional flicker of anxiety about dying in a nuclear war. But now thoughts like these are tying my stomach in knots and keeping me awake deep into the night.

As much as I love solarpunk, and as much as I believe in solarpunk’s vision of a great future that doesn’t require that we go through an apocalypse first, it’s hard to be optimistic about that right now. I cannot shake this feeling that our systems have been so broken and the changes we need to make to the way we do everything are so great that the only way forward is for it all to fall apart. It is hard to shake the feeling that we truly are about to go over that cliff.

That doesn’t mean I won’t stop fighting for the changes we need to make to avoid catastrophe on our way to a sustainable future. But I’m still stuck with the melancholy of these very possibly being the last nice days I will see for either a while or the entire rest of my life.

#solarpunk #not solarpunk #war #apocalypse #climate change #climate anxiety #future #Europe

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