#people are freezing in russia

[tomorrowusa]

Russia, a fossil fuel superpower, is experiencing significant heating issues this winter.

Thousands of Russians have been affected by heating systems failing across the country, including Moscow and its outskirts, the Moscow Oblast, as they face one of the harshest winters in decades. The wave of breakdowns started in December and shows no sign of stopping. This week, at least 16 people suffered burns in the city of Nizhny Novgorod when a large-bore heating pipe exploded, spouting boiling water into the street. The pipe failure also left more than 3,000 people without heat, according to a local news channel on Telegram. [ ... ] The most severe breakdown occurred in Klimovsk, a district of the city of Podolsk in Moscow Oblast, just 50 kilometers (30 miles) from the capital. On January 4, the temperature dropped to -34 Celsius (-29.2 Fahrenheit) — the coldest spell for the area in at least 40 years. On the same day, a Klimovsk heating plant failed. Some 20,000 people were left without heat in the district of 50,000 people. Thousands of them remained cut off from the heating grid for several days. Other cities and towns in the region also experienced multi-day heating failures during the extremely cold weather, with residents of the city of Elektrostal lighting bonfires in front of their apartment buildings as a sign of protest.

Putin has his priorities. The Brezhnev-era infrastructure in Russia is falling apart but he is still diverting resources to his 3-day 696-day "special operation" in Ukraine.

Experts warned that the heating network in Russia is poorly maintained and outdated — especially in the areas that have massively increased their population density since the Soviet times. Even now, some parts of the country still use decades-old steel pipes, well past their projected 25-year lifetime, according to Russia's The Bell outlet. Official figures cited by The Bell indicate that some 3% of the heating, water and sanitation network is labeled as being in a state of "emergency" every year. Still, only 1%-2% are being modernized, leading to thousands of breakdowns.

Putin gambled about who would "suffer" – and he lost.

Following Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, state propagandists issued dire warnings over EU sanctions on gas imports, claiming Europe would "freeze" without access to Russian gas for its heat. Nearly two years into the war, however, heating in Europe appears stable while Russian officials scramble to respond to the heating crisis. This contrast is pointed out with glee by Putin critics and Russian-speaking users from war-torn Ukraine. "They decided to freeze out Europe, but that didn't work. Then they decided to freeze their own to intimidate others," a YouTube user commented under a video reporting on the breakdowns.

Europe had already been increasing the amount of energy it gets from renewable sources. And after Putin's illegal invasion began, many European countries greatly decreased the amount of natural gas they import from Russia. Being less reliant on Russian energy has made Europe more independent. It's never a good idea to become dependent on neighboring dictators.

This report on people freezing in Russia is from UATV in Ukraine. You'd never get anything this candid about the Russian heating crisis on Russian state media.

Dictator Putin's invasion of Ukraine has only spotlighted Russia's shoddy army, its decaying infrastructure, its endless corruption, and its police state repression. If Putin was trying to demonstrate what a great world power Russia is, his invasion has only proven the opposite.

[kashiomi-art]

I can't even do my job, let alone draw for myself, because russia keeps hitting our energy infrastructure. Need to make sure that I take into account 8-12 hour power outages when I plan anything.

But I'd rather spend an entire winter without electricity than a minute under russian occupation. Kiss my ass.

[muddi-gutz]

Been thinking about Cassian a lot lately

[szczekaczz]

october-december 2021 was probably the time i felt the safest in my life and i don't believe i can achieve such level ever again

[mystsee]

MESMERIZED ✦ KEEGAN P. RUSS

✦ about: keegan is mesmerized with you since he first met you ♡

✦ content: NSFW +18, virgin!reader, afab reader, blood, guns & death mentions, panic attacks, misogyny

✦ a.n: the boots i kinda imagined are the moonboots!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

in the sun-kissed landscapes of italy, you, with your captivating charm and surprising intelligence, was dealing with a meeting with very higher ups in the politic world, things were going so far so good.

that was until your boss, a figure whom you trusted very much, revealed to you the news. a deployment to russia as a military translator.

nervous feelings ran down your spine, not from the revelation of a new challenge, but from the anticipation of russia’s frigid embrace. most of the time, you were assigned to help translate in missions involving trafficking, drugs, dark stuff like that. and having to translate for the “bad guys” involved them being not so nice to you. mostly because they don’t like a woman all up on their dark buisness.

nevertheless, you knew you were going to be protected, and the military people have never treated you wrong.

you prepared your clothes, having to use a bigger backpack due to all the puffy jackets, scarfs, you know, all cold related things. which you do not protest! the colder the weather, the better you can dress.

right now you had a puffy black jacket, warm leggings with a thick skirt attached! it was 100x more comfortable because now your ass didn’t have to feel all the cold seats anymore. and of course your puffy boots, thick beige fur covering the boots. one thing about you is your feet were always cold, making you use like 3 layers of socks!

you arrived late night, making the cold even worse but you managed to cover the lower half of your face with your scarf, seriously the cold was so bad in here. as you disembarked from the helicopter, the biting russian cold embraced you, making you shiver involuntarily.

you were greeted warmly by your captain “nice to see you again over here” he smiled warmly “i’m glad too, really missed the artic” he laughed at that, how could he be out here with only a small jacekt?!

he noticed your shivering frame, you thought you were hiding it well, making him start leading you through the snow-covered landscape over to base.

upon entering, all eyes turned towards you – a mix of amazement and curiosity danced in the gaze of your new colleagues, you knew your boots were quite attention catching, probably why everyone kept staring at you.

to say you were pretty was little, it was obvious everyone in the room found you beautiful, but you didn’t pay it any mind, again thinking maybe your boots were standing out a bit too much, not the way your thighs looked so good with the skirt on top, but! they would need to get used to see your babies, they were your go-to in cold weather.

however, one pair of eyes stood out, belonging to keegan. he almost looked mesmerized with you. he watched you stride with an unyielding confidence, almost model like, the skirt making your hips move so so pretty, that it was making it hard for him to stop staring at you.

somehow your eyes found his, thanking the heavens you had your scarf covering your cheeks because you were blushing so hard rn, his gaze lingered, an admiring intensity in his eyes that you almost tripped.

only his eyes, a window to the unspoken thoughts within, were visible, making you curious. as his fellow soldier spoke, keegan’s attention remained freezed on you, his focus unyielding, and the words of his comrade fading into the background of his silent admiration.

the spell was broken as soon as the captain opened the door to his office, inviting you in to debrief the mission with you. you were going with keegan’s team to help them gather intel, they were trying to find a very big drug dealer, and you translating, would help them find him faster.

tomorrow morning would be your first mission with them, yet you still didn’t know who keegan was, making it intriguing whom you’d be working with.

captain showed you your room, it was a basic military room, a twin sized bed in the middle, small vanity to your left, a desk in the other size to the room, and a small window, last but not least, your own bathroom.

you pleaded your boss to give you your own bathroom, there was enough experiences a girl can have in a shared bathroom used by men.

you started investigating about who you were translating for tomorrow, loosing the track of time. by the time you finished it was 3 am, making you worry a little, you were leaving tomorrow at 6 am.

you were almost going to bed when your stomach rumbled, making you internally groan, you knew that if you didn’t sleep, insomnia would make its way to you.

rolling your eyes you went to the kitchen, you thought everyone was asleep rn, so you paid no mind yo your outfit, a small cropped sweatshirt, leggings and fluffy slippers.

you were about to eat your slice of bread with jam when a sudden voice made you drop it to the washer “can’t sleep?” “jesus fuck!” you swore you felt your heart stop for a second, you never saw anyone in here!

you turned around to see the same guy from before, keegan, who just stared at you, seated in a chair with a book in his hands, it almost looked like he was trying to contain his laugh.

“what’s wrong with you!” you said with a smile laughing, he probably saw your bread jump to the washer “me? nothing, was just asking” he said it so proud of himself “how do you even read with all the lights off?” by now you had turned to him, still by the counter “i wasn’t reading, i was drinking tea” “oh” you never saw the cup of tea beside the book silly you.

“just know you ruined my dinner” you said pouting “and you asked my what’s wrong with me” he said scoffing “oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t eat late at night” “no i do princess, just not a bread with jam at 3 in the morning” his nickname made you stop your breath for a second, deciding to pay no mind to it “but you do you princess” he was by your side now, putting his cup of tea in the washer, until you saw him freeze next to you, there was small light coming from outside, oh yea, you had no bra on.

he could see see your breasts, your nipples to be precise, under your sweatshirt, practically begging to be touched, your sweatshirt was so small it had ridden up just a tiny bit when you were making your dinner, making keegan see a small part of your under breast.

“princess” keegan suddenly moved closer to you, making you see his eyes better, revealing a captivating shade of blue, a mesmerizing hue that held a subtle warmth within its cool depths, caught your attention.

his gaze, unwavering in its intensity, sent a gentle warmth through you, leaving a blush on your cheeks again, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection forged in that shared moment.

“you still don’t know my name” which was true making you ask for it, when he said it, he saw the realization in your eyes “oh! i’m working with you in the next mission” you said a bit breathlessly “glad to have you with us” you could see the deep appreciation for you in his eyes.

keegan had heard about you, he knew of your well-regarded reputation as a translator, held a silent acknowledgment of the confidentiality that shrouded your professional endeavors.

in the subtle lines of his expression, you could see respect for the enigma that surrounded you, a recognition that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. “thank you” you said, he just nodded to you, he was so close to you now you could feel his chest, and his chest could feel your nipples. you just held your breath keeping eye contact with him “well, princess, you must get your sleep, i won’t keep you up” you were in a trance when he moved, snapping you out of it “goodnight keegan” you said in a small voice. keegan smiled behind his mask.

ever since then, a connection quietly unfolded between you and keegan. it initially started as him being a distant observer, he always kept his eyes on you everywhere you went, even more when you were speaking russian towards the males, you held such confidence with you he was deeply allured with you.

his presence evolved into a silent shield, a comforting assurance amidst the unfamiliarity of a foreign land. he may couldn’t understand russian, but he sure as hell could see the body language and the tones they were speaking to you.

everytime he could sense any sort of verbal assault at you, his steely gaze fixed upon the adversaries with an intensity that spoke volumes, as well as his hidden raised gun;), sensing the weight of his silent threat, they found themselves silenced. even though you had no idea he was threatening them behind you.

you always knew keegan had your back, and silently thanked him for it. as the time passed, you felt keegan more protective of you, and you more attentive of him, you two were almost all the time together.

there were moments, a shared smile in the midst of icy winds, or a wordless understanding in the chaos of a mission, that spoke louder than words. in these instances, his protective instinct manifested – a steady hand guiding you through the challenges, a silent assurance that you were not alone. metaphorically as well as physically.

his interactions evolved into a touch that carried a warmth beyond mere protection. his gestures, once purely professional, became tinged with an affectionate familiarity.

a guiding hand on the small of your back during a mission briefing or a reassuring touch on your shoulder in moments of uncertainty, each contact seemed to convey a connection that lingered beyond the realm of your relationship.

these touches carried a feeling of something more, a silent language of shared emotions between you and him. in the hushed moments when his hand lingered a second longer than necessary or the gentle squeeze that accompanied a reassuring smile.

in the dim glow of the base's common area, keegan’s touches continued to weave a tapestry of unspoken connection. a shared moment over a map had his fingers brushing against yours, the contact lingering for a heartbeat longer than required, it was practically normal for you to be blushing around him now.

during a particularly challenging mission, his arm found its way around your shoulders, a protective embrace in the face of caos. in that moment you just wanted to be beside him all the time, you felt safe around him.

there was also a time in which keegan was behind you, listening to what you would be doing, until he felt rather not okay with what you were supposed to do. he suddenly put his hand discreetly on your waist, and the other arm in front of your chest, his hand subtly telling “no”

“she’s with us, meaning we protect her, what you’re saying is risky for her, she won’t do it” you felt warmth on your chest. you have never experienced this, the other teams you had been were never this attentive with you. it was a weird emotion for you, you were used to always seek for yourself.

in the quiet of the nights, a shared gaze held more than words could express. keegan’s hand, a reassuring presence, sought yours across the table, fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing your fingers every now and then. he did that more times than you could count.

the line between friendship and something deeper became increasingly blurred, leaving both of you suspended in the uncharted territory of unspoken emotions.

the endearing term "princess" slipped from his lips almost all the time, a word you loved hearing from him even though you never tell him. it became a private language, whether in the midst of a mission or during quiet evenings, the endearment echoed, making you warm inside all the time.

keegan’s feelings had transcended the boundaries of friendship, evolving into a profound connection that bordered into almost being in love with you.

his gaze, once intense, now carried a softness that showed a deep admiration, a mesmerizing allure that held him captivated in your presence.

his eyes just seemed to follow you everywhere, absorbing every detail of you, every facet of your being, as if etching your essence into his soul.

the desire to be with you became a palpable force, an unspoken longing that lingered in the spaces between conversations. the way his fingers sought yours, the way he leaned in, just a fraction closer than necessary – each action seemed to fluster you more and more.

you too couldn’t deny it, you felt drawn to him, but even with the warmth of his company and shared moments, there was a bit of confusion.

your feelings were kind of mixed up, wanting to connect with him but also feeling unsure about it. it’s like a struggle between what your heart wants and what your head is thinking.

you just don’t know how to respond to him :(

figuring out your own feelings became a bit like wandering through a maze, with no clear destination.

being close to keegan made you feel good, but accepting his love brought its own set of uncertainties. you tried taking things one step at a time, trying to make sense of your own heart and the budding feelings between you two.

until you just couldn’t anymore

you were in a very heated meeting with keegan, as always, behind you, talking to a very dangerous person, in a very dangerous place, at any moment now something could happen, making you feel on edge all the time there. you felt keegan’s hand hold your shoulder softly, reminding you he is here with you.

in the middle of the conversation, you saw in less than a second the man’s eyes change, from angry, to weirdly happy, like he was going to be free from all this interrogation. you were confused, until you heard it.

bullets and bullets and more bullets echoed in the building, as well as some passing through the windows in the small office you were. in a second keegan had moved you, shielding you from any possible damage

you heard him speak to the captain, the captain said they were under attack, making difficult to get out of there. you were alone inside with keegan and the man, he was tied to the table though, so you weren’t worried he would escape.

keegan held you behind his back, opening the door and checking if it was safe to go out. he made a clear sign and went to the right side. you were shaking of fear, you could hear explosions all over the place, the shaking of the floor, bullets everywhere, it was crazy.

suddenly a man spawned out of nowhere pulling keegan and tried stabbing him.

the military gave you a gun before you left, you had basic military training, knew how to use a gun, yet never needed to. but seeing keegan almost being stabbed made you react on instinct, you pulled your gun in less than a second and shoot the bastard. keegan’s was free from the man’s arm and shot another bullet between his head.

you just stood there, the adrenaline was making it hard to process what just happened, but you could feel your body trembling with fear, you may have possibly just killed a man. you’ve never done that in your life.

keegan saw the fear in your eyes “princess, hey, i need you to focus on me” keegan’s grabbed your face, you stared at him, worry clear in your eyes “you saved me and you’re a fucking badass for that” keegan’s appreciation words dragged you out of the dark thoughts you were falling to.

you both heard footsteps approaching you, making keegan grab your hand, tight, and walked to the other direction, you moved faster than him, adrenaline was making you rushed now, until you were about to move to the other corner of the hallway and saw armed men looking for, you supposed, keegan and you.

you pushed keegan back, startling him for a second, until he could hear the voices. you had a door next to you, keegan opened it and dragged you both inside. it was small, very small, yet enough for hiding. keegan turned you so his back was to the door, always protecting you first.

you on the other hand, was shaking shitless again, you could understand what they were saying, they were here for you, obviously not happy at all that you knew about what they were doing.

keegan once again tried dragging you out of your starting panic attack, he said your name twice trying to get your attention. you looked at him, you were very much fucking scared.

“hey, you’re with me, i won’t let anything happen to you okay?” you felt one of keegan’s hand hold your head softly, the other went to your back. you then realized he was hugging you, you were so close to each other he didn’t even need to moved you closer. you moved your hands to hold his back too, resting your head on his shoulder.

in the middle of the chaotic circumstances, keegan emerged as your anchor, his presence became the grounding point that helped you survive this.

it was then when it hit you, the realization, the profound connection that resonated beyond words. attempting to utter his name, you found your voice stifled by anxiety, your very core trembling with fear.

keegan, ever perceptive, tightened his hold around you, a silent reassurance.

as the threat passed by your door, keeping your mouth shut became a necessity, not just for the mission at hand but also to guard the burgeoning emotions inside you.

after a few minutes, you could hear them muffled, meaning they were far. keegan opened the door, still holding you, and looked out, he saw that it was clear “let’s go princess”

the next few minutes was you and keegan trying to get out of here, it was almost like a maze, the explosions seemed to calm down as well as the bullets. but there was still people looking for you.

you were about to turn to your left when a hand grabbed you from your neck, choking you, you tried to scream, but the man was fast, he suddenly pushed you to the wall, punching you in the face, almost breaking your nose, but you moved just in time your face, hitting you in the cheek.

you suddenly remembered you had a gun, you pulled it out, raising it fast to the middle of his head and shot him quick.

it was ugly, scary, and it glued you to your spot, all his blood soaked you, yet his hold on you loosened, making the man fall to your shoulder, surely staining your coat.

you were so fucking scared you thanked the lord keegan grabbed the man and lunched him to the wall behind.

you were again almost in shock, but keegan was in front of you fast “come on baby, we need to leave this hell” keegan kept dragging you, your body fully trusting him, because you were going into shock now.

you saw light, and finally you were out, a few dead people scattered on the ground, not helping you at all.

it until you saw the familiar humvee you felt slight ease. everyone saw your state, blood soaking all your face, dripping all over your coat. quite a sight. keegan just shakes his head to his teammates, silently telling them that you needed space now.

the soldiers admired you, even cared for you after all this time, it was clear seeing you like this worried them, but they trusted keegan, and they know you trust keegan too.

keegan helped you up the humvee, sitting next to you, you felt him whispering beside you “you okay?” you just nodded taking a small ragged breath, wiping your nose. you felt disgusting, you could feel the man’s blood dripping down your nose, the need to shower was strong right now.

keegan just softly held your hand, squeezing it to help you ground yourself, but you just couldn’t, you were so bloody anxious right now you couldn’t stop moving your leg up and down.

keegan felt it, slightly worried about you, he knew you’ve never been in combat before, let alone kill someone. you felt his hand slowly let go of yours, and put it on top of your thigh, making you halt your movements.

he kept it there slightly above your knee, massaging a little, not daring to move his hand up higher.

the ride to base was just the captain talking to someone on the radio, other than that, it was silent.

as soon as you arrived to base, you hurried out of the humvee, and fast towards the barracks, feeling the weight of the mission on your shoulders. you desperately needed the shower.

keegan stayed by the humvee, not following you right away. he stood there, giving you room. he could understand the impact of what just happened, and knew letting you calm down first was a good idea.

the letting you calm down time meant maybe you would come out of your room later, but now, it was 11:45 pm, and keegan was more than worried about you now. he had no idea you were still in the shower, living the past event over and over in your head.

you just couldn’t erase the image from your brain, just seeing the man’s eyes go lifeless in front of you, it was such a crazy thing to look at, and you weren’t dealing with it very okay.

you felt dirty, even though you cleaned your body more than twice. you had lost the track of time, you were so inside your brain you forgot to eat something. your stomach begging for food now, making you feel nauseous.

you just put on a brown long sleeve sweatshirt with some random leggings. you knew it was last midnight now, making it easier for you, you didn’t want to see anyone right now.

keegan, on the verge of heading to your room, noticed you entering the kitchen. your eyes were red, and your nose was puffy – the signs of tears evident. the concern on his face deepened as he observed the aftermath of emotions that had washed over you. he paused, recognizing the fragility in your demeanor, reconsidering whether to approach and offer comfort in this vulnerable moment.

spotting keegan in the kitchen, you froze in place. your hair, still damp, added a chill to the atmosphere, and a subtle shiver ran through you. keegan stood there, his worry evident in his eyes. the unspoken concern made you feel a twinge of guilt for disappearing, realizing the impact it had on him.

feeling the wave of emotions crash over you once again, tears welled up, and sobs escaped despite your efforts. a whispered "i'm sorry" escaped your lips, muffled by your trembling hand pressed against your mouth. the vulnerability laid bare.

in an instant, keegan was by your side. dressed in a simple black sweatshirt and cargo pants, he became your anchor once again.

his chest against your trembling form, you held him tight, as if seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. his hands gently cradled your head and waist, offering a silent reassurance, “nothin’ to be sorry about princess” you could feel his deep voice rumble in his chest “it’s okay”

his hand now gently petting your hair as you clung to him. between sobs, you began to express the guilt weighing on your chest. "i feel so bad for leaving like that" you admitted, the words punctuated by shaky breaths.

the shock of your actions you did a while ago lingered, casting a shadow on your thoughts. the vulnerability in sharing your feelings with keegan felt both liberating and daunting. it was a bad habit of yours, disappear whenever you felt any emotion that wasn’t happiness. it was normal to you:( even if it’s been more than 12 hours since you last emerged from your room.

keegan’s voice, calm and reassuring, cut through the heaviness of the moment. "it's okay," he whispered, his hand still tenderly stroking your hair. "you're here now, and that's what matters."

a flicker of strength ignited within you, and you stood a little taller, you pressed a tender kiss on keegan’s cheek, your hand lingering on his face for a heartbeat. his eyes held an unspoken love, you could see it clearly now.

keegan’s question for the kiss hung in the air, a gentle curiosity evident in his gaze. you felt his mask close and his breaths deepen, you took a moment, meeting his intense eyes. "it’s a thank you," you said softly, "for always protecting me."

his response was a tightening of the embrace, bringing you even closer. his face, now near yours, held an intensity matched by the deep breaths he took. in a rough voice deep with emotion, he confessed, "you driving me fucking crazy." the admission hung in the air, your cheeks flushing furiously.

a playful challenge danced in your eyes as you maintained intense eye contact. "what if you show me how much I drive you crazy?" you suggested, your doe eyes locked onto his.

a groan escaped him as he dropped his head to your shoulder. laughter bubbled from you, but your breath hitched as keegan shifted, causing your sweatshirt to ride up slightly. the short length and absence of a bra made you almost flash him your right breast.

keegan could feel it, in fact, he could feel your nipples pressed on him since he hugged you, making his pants feel tighter.

you felt keegan’s hand move up, near your breast, starting to massage there, making you blush furiously “may i remind you were are still in public keegan” you didn’t want anyone walk in on keegan almost touching your breasts, in the middle of the kitchen.

startling you in a swift motion, he lifted you off the ground, his strong hold on your bum leaving you feeling both surprised and strangely like jelly inside, and before you could voice your concerns, he began walking towards your room.

you were silently screaming at him about the possibility of getting caught, but keegan just tightened his hold on you more like squeezing your booty, effectively silencing you.

the situation didn't seem to faze him as he navigated the corridors, your protests muted in the intensity of the moment. the world outside seemed to fade away as keegan carried you and opened your door, leaving behind a trail of laughter and a flutter of unspoken excitement.

you thought he was going to drop you now, but no! he just went to your bed, and dropped you, making you bounce and laugh at what he just did “such a romantic” keegan just held the back of your legs and dragged you near his cock.

that motion made your shirt roll up, now showing him your bare breasts. you widened your eyes a little, but keegan looked like he was more enamored by you now “what a fucking sight i have” he couldn't help but revel in the intimate view of you beneath him. your eyes, filled with affection, locked onto his, radiating a warmth that mirrored the depth of your connection.

the air thickened with tension, and keegan couldn't ignore the tightening in his pants, a physical response to the emotional intimacy and the allure of the moment. “look how you make me feel princess” you could feel it, near your cunt, his big cock, making a big tent in his pants.

you just couldn’t anymore, you rolled your hips up a little, the sensation almost made you cum on the spot, but keegan just made a noise of disapproval “nuh uh, let me have my time with my princess yeah?” you blushed even more when keegan took a hold of your hips, and slowly moved his hands up, dying to touch your breasts.

when his hands finally felt them, he was on cloud 9. they were so soft and moldeable in his hands he could feel precum leaking from his cock. keegan lowered himself close your breasts, rolled his mask up, and licked your nipple making you moan.

he started sucking on your nipple like a man starved, while the other hand groped your other breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. you were panting, his hands were god sent, as well as his mouth.

that’s when you felt the sudden urge to kiss him. and you couldn’t wait anymore. feeling the magnetic pull, you took charge, gently dragging his face upward to meet yours. in a bold move, your lips crashed against his, a collision of desire and longing.

a sound of contentment escaped keegan, emotions flowing between you like an electric current. the world outside the moment ceased to exist as the intensity of the kiss spoke volumes, an unspoken exchange of emotions and desires woven into the fabric of that stolen, passionate embrace.

keegan deepened the kiss even more, angling your head better, he was heaven sent. in the heat of the kiss, your hands, seemingly of their own accord, found their way to his mask. it became an unconscious exploration, a touch laden with curiosity. unexpectedly, keegan broke the kiss, startling you, and swiftly snatched away his mask.

in the soft glow of the small light, his face was revealed, and you found yourself enraptured by the sight of him.

"you’re so beautiful" the words slipped from your lips almost involuntarily. a deep resonance of satisfaction echoed in keegan’s chest, and without a moment's hesitation, he dragged you up. seated on his knees, you found yourself straddling him, his hands on your waist and bum, fondling with it making you whine, as your lips met again in a deep, intoxicating kiss, yet you felt needy.

involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding right on his cock, making him groan deeply “fuck baby, you’re going to make me cum” knowing he was as aroused as you made you feel even more needy, making you grind your hips even more.

keegan’s hand took a hold of your hips, making you stop your movements. you whined again, even surprising you, you’ve never met this side of you, so needy of someone.

keegan's touch on your face was soft, almost reverent. he spoke with a gentle intensity, "i want to worship you. let me." the request hung in the air, and you, captivated by the depth of his gaze, agreed with a simple nod.

with deliberate tenderness, keegan laid you back onto the bed, his hands moving to the fabric of your clothes. He began with your sweatshirt, each movement deliberate and unhurried, as if unraveling the layers of vulnerability and desire between you two. as he raised your sweatshirt up, his hands once again touched your breasts, making you moan lowly.

keegan just smirked, having removed your sweatshirt, he then proceeded to shed his own shirt. the unveiling of his toned body drew an involuntary blush to your cheeks. his eyes caught yours, and a playful smile graced his lips.

"like what you see?" he teased, the husky timbre of his voice adding a layer of seduction to the moment. the air hung heavy with anticipation as you met his gaze, your response a silent affirmation that echoed in the space between you two.

keegan, still holding your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes, continued his deliberate exploration. his hands, deft and unhurried, moved to your leggings.

with tenderness, he peeled them away, revealing more of your vulnerability. the room seemed to pulse with shared desire as each layer of clothing fell away, creating an intimate tapestry of connection between you and Keegan.

you were only with your panties on now, and keegan with his grey boxers, not hiding anything, making you slightly anxious, he looked very big, and you’ve never done this before.

a sudden realization gripped you, and you couldn't help but say, "wait" keegan, on the verge of sliding your panties off, halted immediately, his expression shifting to one of concern.

nervously, you confessed, "i’ve never done this before." the vulnerability in your admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and patience. the room, once charged with desire, now held a new layer of intimacy.

keegan, surprised by your revelation, felt a renewed sense of responsibility. he looked into your eyes, the desire tempered with understanding, and reassured you, "i’ll go slow. we’ll take it at your pace."

his words carried a gentle promise, a commitment to make you feel at ease in this intimate moment. keegan then slowly slide your panties off, your cunt now bare and displayed in front of him. keegan just stared at it for a second, absolutely beautiful he thought; all shiny with your slick, begging for some attention. and who was he to deny it.

one thing about keegan, he loved foreplay, and you, you liked it too, but he’s made you cum twice! fingers and tongue involved, you weren’t complaining, but you really wanted his cock now.

from where you were, you could see his boxer stained with precum, making you whine, you were past needy now “i need you keegan, please” keegan heard the whiny tone from you, making his cock even more hard.

“such a needy princess aren’t you” keegan swiftly removed his boxers down, his cock sprang free on his stomach. your mouth was watering just seeing it. it was big, veiny and thick.

you didn’t think it, you were on all 4s now, keegan was looking behind dropping his boxer when he felt your mouth on his cock, making him hiss loud as well as whined “fuck princess, what are you doing?” you could hear his voice strained, like he was containing himself.

you didn’t answer, it was your first time doing this, yet you felt confident when you swallowed almost his whole cock down your throat, making keegan’s hands grab your head, pushing you deeper, making his eyes roll back.

“who taught you this?” he was a panting mess now, you kept bobbing your head up and down, using your angelic hands to grab his balls, swollen with his cum, massaging them, making keegan go all over the edge.

he didn’t warn you, just grabbed your head dragging it all the way down, thrusting his big cock down your throat, moaning loud. you decided to look at him then, giving your best puppy eyes you could, making keegan mesmerized with you, you could see all his reactions from here, his stomach clenching, his mouth panting, and his eyes full of love.

“i’m gonna cum love” you felt keegan trying to move his cock out of your mouth, but you just grabbed his hips, pushed them to you, and moving your tongue around his veiny cock.

keegan cummed on the spot, thick white ropes of cum going all the way down your throat, you as the princess you are, swallowed it whole, keeping your hand on his balls, feeling them clench everytime he cummed.

you were sure keegan was about to pass out now, that was the hardest orgasm he’s ever felt.

his desire was evident in the intensity of his gaze, deciding to take charge. his hands gently grasped your head, lifting you slightly making you put your hands on his big muscular chest. a deep, intense kiss ensued, each meeting of your lips sending a shiver through your body.

keegan murmured a sweet praise, "you’re such a beautiful good girl aren’t you?" he was still in his post orgasmic state, making you laugh a little, but this man had a very strong stamina.

you could feel his cock hard again in between your stomach making you put your hand on top of his slit. he bucked his hips a little “come on now” he said with a strained voice “let me make you feel good” desire evident in his voice.

keegan laid you down on the bed, moving your thighs open, letting your cunt once open to him. keegan not waisting a second now, aligned his cock with your cunt, dragging it up and down your folds “stop teasing keegan” you said pouting.

it took you by surprise when you felt his tip in your entrance, making you stop your breath for a second, keegan was smirking now, how easy it was to shut your needy ass up.

“i’ll go slow yeah? you tell me if it too much princess” keegan started sliding his thick cock insided your virgin cunt, it felt weird, a slight burn everytime he slide deeper.

keegan on the other hand was in awe, he saw your cunt swallowing his cock inside, inch by inch, your puffy clit at view too. in a second keegan had his hand on your clit, slowly circling it, making you moan, allowing his cock to slide further.

once he bottomed, he stayed there, he was still on his knees, allowing him a beautiful view. you had your knees next to your breasts, his cock swallowed by your cunt, your face flushed.

he couldn’t wait anymore, keegan dropped his forearms next to your head, and started grinding his cock inside your cunt. you felt so full, and him grinding was almost hitting your womb, making you moan loudly. “keegan you’re so deep” you said frowning from pleasure, your nails were on his big muscular biceps, hanging on for dear life.

“does it feel good?” “very fucking good” you said moaning the last word, keegan had his head hidden on your neck, his pace now a bit faster, balls hitting your ass everytime he thrusted, the skin to skin slapping sound resonating all over your room, creating such an erotic scene.

keegan then raised his head and kissed you deeply, his hand holding your head softly, you could feel him even deeper now. he had you on a mating press, his chest squeezing your breasts making your nipples stand out even more “you feel so fucking good princess” “this cunt belongs to me yeah” “you’re all fucking mine”

keegan kept saying this small praises everytime he thrusted, but what made your orgasm come quick was when he said you were his. yes you were. you were his since you met him. he was there for you ever since then, always by his side, always his.

“y-yes i am” keegan’s intense gaze was on you now “i’m yours keegan, all yours” he hit a particular spot inside you that you saw stars, moaning loud “say that again princess” “i’m yours” keegan was about to cum just from hearing you say that.

“and you’re all mine” you kissed him hard when you said that. keegan never thought you were the possessive type, yet when he heard you say that, you could say he fell in love even deeper “you’re all fucking mine keegan” you started meeting his thrusts with your hips, your clit rubbing with his stomach making your orgasm come fast.

keegan could feel it, you were clenching stronger now, almost making him stop his movements “you cumming princess?” that goddamn nickname was going to be the death of you “i want to cum with you”

your needy voice made keegan tighten his hold on you, and thrust deeper, and slower. keegan grabbed your face and kissed you, his other hand rubbing your clit. making you cum hard.

keegan cummed in an instant too, feeling your cunt clenching around his cock too, your orgasm so hard you closed your eyes. he cummed inside you, sliding even further, letting all his cum coat your walls with him. only him.

he stayed there for a while, letting you come down from the high. you were breathing hard, his cock now softening inside you, yet you didn’t want him to come out yet.

you used your feet to hit him on the hips, making him slide a bit more “stay here for a while” keegan caught the message, you wanted to cuddle. with him still inside you.

you were a sucker for cuddles, and touch starved. so when keegan laid down, still inside you, and dragged you almost on top of him, you felt shivers down your spine.

as keegan’s arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, a warmth spread through you, reaching the neglected corners of your soul. the gentle cradle of his arms was a stark contrast to the void you hadn’t realized existed, a reminder of the absence of such intimate touch in your life.

his arms forming a protective cocoon around you, fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. the rise and fall of his chest against your back mirrored the rhythm of shared breaths, creating a serene melody.

it wasn't just the physical closeness; it was the profound sense of being seen and held, a silent promise that in his arms, you were cherished and safe.

a few minutes had passed when you felt keegan sitting up, you as well on his lap, making you pout “don’t make that face” he said condescending “i need to clean you up yeah?”

keegan carried you all the way down your bathroom, again, still inside you, and seated you on the counter. he took a really long look to your breasts. such beautiful breasts just sitting there, making him want to hold them again.

“enjoying the view” you said in a proud tone, keegan just moved his eyes to your face and laid a small kiss to your cheek. you started feeling how keegan slid his now soft cock out your cunt, once it was all out, he just stayed there, looking at both your cunt and his cock “look at the mess you made love”

his cock was full of his cum, and yours, you felt all his cum slide out of your cunt, now on the counter, the sight making keegan’s cock start hardening again, and you saw that as well.

you just stared at him, beautiful doe eyes, and grabbed his cock. “can’t get tired of this cock huh?” you just smiled, stood up, and dragged him to the shower. that was the best shower sex you’ve ever had.

after the shower, keegan was behind you like a lost puppy, just wanting to be near you, touching your waist, squishing it, as well as your bum, all while you were doing your small skin care.

and on bed? keegan was even more cuddly than you! he said, scratch that, obliged you to be the little spoon. now you had his beautiful face right next to you, his hand drawing small circles in your waist, going near your breasts to tease you, your legs tangled beneath the sheets. you could get used to this.

“so, for how long have i driven you crazy?” keegan heard the cheekiness in your voice, you probably knew keegan was head over heels for you, acting all dumb to torture him, making keegan groan behind you “i’m going to keep it with for a while”

you laughed, putting your hands on top of the one that was on your waist, dragging it near your lips, planting a soft kiss there. when you kissed his hand, an unexpected tenderness surged within him, like a flood of warmth.

in response, he hid his face against your neck, as if to shield himself from the cascade of emotions, laying a few kisses here and there. you really could get used to this.

♡

AHHHHHH the end ;’[ i love fluff, was deciding if splitting this into chapters but i got carried away and made it a one shot jiji

hope u liked it!

[mewlabu]

People forget that while Ukraine isn't allowed to harm one hair on Russia's soil, Russia has been working hard to kill Ukrainians not just with misiles

- by destroying the medical infrastructure

- freezing or burning people to death by destroying the power grid that helps people survive during winter and increasingly hot summers

- by kidnapping and re-educating Ukrainian children and adopting them into Russian families

- by destroying Ukraine's food production capacity

- by targetting civilian areas, in broad daylight, such as shopping centres

- by destroying cultural institutions, museums, universities, schools

- by riddling farm land with mines it will take decades to remove that will maim and kill farmers and children

- by causing one of the worst environmental disasters when they blew up a dam

- by executing and torturing and raping men, women, children and elderly who are Ukrainian

- by creating generations of trauma and loss, some of which has and will end with people taking their own lives

- by convincing the whole world that it's ok for them to keep doing this without consequence whether in Chechnya, Syria, Ukraine, Georgia, Mali, Sudan, Central Africa, and the list goes on

And that all not even touching on how the operate in the actual battle field, using chemical weapons and white phosphorus, or executing POWs, and civilians in captured towns.

And this isn't touching on centuries of linguistic and cultural repression, political repression, forced starvation, forced labour, death by displacement, gulags, and summary executions.

Russia is a plague on the world. Hell, on its own people.

And it's been that way for centuries. Before Putin. Even before Stalin. Even before the Tzar.

Repression. Oppression. Violence. Totalitarianism. Subservience to power. Apathy in the face of it all. That's all it has to offer in its grotesque history, art and culture.

[panimoonchild]

To all those who died alone in the Russian occupation

🕯 "To all those who died alone in the Russian occupation". Muzychi village, Kyiv region

These are the words on the tombstone that stands on the grave of the mother of Ukrainian artist Alevtina Kakhidze. The artist installed it in 2021. This memorial project consists of six marble doors that replicate the location of the doors in the house of Alevtina's mother, known as Klyubnyka Andriivna, in the village of Zhdanivka, Donetsk region, as well as concrete porch steps recreated in real life. When the war in eastern Ukraine broke out, the artist's mother was unable to leave her home despite her daughter's persuasion. Alevtina dedicated a series of works to her mother, which were shown at exhibitions in Ukraine and abroad. Kakhidze's mother died in 2019 - her heart stopped while crossing one of the checkpoints controlled by the militants of the so-called "Donetsk People's Republic". She was buried in the Kyiv region.

This is not the kind of message that children should receive from their parents "If we are killed, all the documents are in the basement."

This is what I mean when I say that we cannot negotiate and freeze the conflict. Because children from the occupied territories, who are now 14-17 years old, will be fighting against us in five years.

Don't be indifferent. Make Russia pay. Please hear our cry out to the world, keep spreading our voices, and donate to our army and combat medics (savelife.in.ua, prytulafoundation.org, Serhii Sternenko, hospitallers.life, ptahy.vidchui.org, and u24.gov.ua).

[shotmrmiller]

Inevitable (Ending 1 to Situationship)

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB! Reader

TW: Major Character Death, blood, hurt/ little comfort, a g o n y

Simon closes his eyes in defeat. He had been dancing with death for too long, and it'd finally come to collect it's dues.

This particular mission had been long. He knew it would be. Price had debriefed him on it months before— since it would only be them two. They were the seniors of the task force. They've done a similar mission before, so it seemed only natural that they did it again.

But it didn't mean it hadn't been shit since they arrived.

Almost 9 months out in the freezing cold, MRE's every day, waiting for the chance to finally get their hands on vital information that would save millions.

It was a tiny town in Russia, Oymyakon. Home to about 500 people. Soldiers, mostly. The plan had been to wait for a large portion of the small militia to move cities— to another safe house in the nearby city of Khara-Tumul. What prolonged this mission was that while Ghost and Price knew they'd move, they didn't know when. And it had been imperative that the duo get out here not to miss this slim window.

To Simon, this had been a perfect way to not be distracted with the situation back home. With you.

You had been with him for years now, and he always loved going home to you. A warm flat, a home-cooked meal, and the love in your eyes every time he came back from a mission. But then something he hoped wouldn't happen, did. Simon's past chose to catch up with him now. Now, when he finally had something to look forward to in life.

One day, outside his door, was an envelope. He had felt a crushing pressure on his chest. The blood in his veins was cold, and his hands trembled as he picked up the envelope. He squeezed his eyes as he let out a shuddering breath— praying to whatever higher power that the enemies he has made throughout the years don't know about you. He practically rips open the package and his worst fear is confirmed. Photos of you and Simon out on a date. He even remembers the said date because you had been wearing the sexiest leather booties he'd ever seen. Simon had made you wear them as he fucked you into the mattress that night.

Which meant that Simon had to end it with you. He was about to go on a mission for an unprecedented amount of time and he would not be here to protect you. So a month before leaving, he treated you coldly. Harshly. A way he'd never dream of being with you. He would hear you crying in the bedroom and it was a knife to his heart, but to him, it seemed like it was the only way to keep you safe.

Then, a moment he'll never forget. He said that he didn't feel the same for you as he did before. Thought it best if you both went your separate ways and that it had to be within the next two weeks because he was selling the flat and moving away. That whatever of his you had, to give it to him. Any sleeping shirts, photos, and the bloody ring he promised himself you'd wear to your grave.

He was a witness to how you broke at his words. God. He, at that moment. wished his enemies just took him and be done with it. Relieve him of the agony he caused to himself by hurting you. You wailed, agonizingly loud, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and dripping from your chin to the floor for what seemed like hours.

Til your heartbreak turned to rage. You spit venom at him. That if he had another 'cunt' waiting for him somewhere. That if he ever even loved you. You always were his strong merciless woman with fire in your veins and smoke in your lungs. How hard it was to be him, sitting on the couch and blankly stare at the telly without rising to your jibes. To tell you the truth. That there has been no one before you and there won't be one after you. But he forced himself to ignore you as you shoved all of your belongings in your luggage before throwing him the engagement ring and slamming the door.

Gone.

After this, he lived up to his namesake. He was a ghost from your past life. As if he had never been there in the first place. You moved away, far away, and it was bittersweet for Simon because this way you could disappear, out of the limelight. Breathing. Alive.

And he kept an eye on you, from afar. Just to make sure you were safe.

It worked. Both fortunately and unfortunately. You moved on, it seemed. Not from him, which he is so grateful for, but your life went on in every other aspect. It went uninterrupted up until his deployment.

It was supposed to be a simple but long mission. Wait for them to clear out before cleaning house. But even with all the careful planning, and no fucking mistakes, it went tits up.

Somehow they missed one. One fucking enemy. Simon had been standing behind John and turned around after hearing the crunch of broken glass behind him.

One shot to Simon's shoulder, another to his stomach, and then another to the right side of his chest. Before Simon falls, John shoots the last man dead. He throws himself to his knees next to Simon, gloved hands on top of each other as he presses hard into the bullet hole bleeding the most— the one in his ribcage.

"Christ, Ghost. Stay with me, son. We'll get you out of here and patched up in no time, yeah?"

Simon can't hear anything past the rushing of blood in his ears and his own heartbeat, pumping out blood from his wounds with each pulse. Simon's losing too much blood, too fast, and he knows it.

Price is panicking, voice warbling on the radio calling for medevac, but the wait time is 45 minutes. Far too long. And Simon had beat the devil once, long ago. Everyone knows he can't be beaten twice. He opens his mouth and blood bubbles in it as he tries to speak.

"I'm not making it, Captain."

"The hell you're not, Simon, stay with me!"

Simon grabs John's wrist with the little strength he's got left and whispers out, "Captain. John. Please," before digging into the inside of his glove, and pulling out something before clasping it in John's hands and squeezing.

"Please."

John looks at his own hand and nods, eyes glassy with years before he sniffles, clears his throat, and tells Simon of how his daughter had just learned how to argue back when he wouldn't give her any more juice because she's had too much.

Simon is still gripping John's hand as he drops his head back in resignation —before he imagines the family he could've had with you. Pretty little girl with curly hair, your eyes, and all of your attitude. In another life, he thinks, he'd find you there too. In any life, he'd love you.

He wheezes an inhale once—wet, painful— and exhales, and then his chest stills. Hand gripping John's goes limp. John lets out an agonizing scream through his teeth before he presses the button on his radio so hard it cracks.

"All stations— this is Bravo. We got the intel...One KIA."

---

You're in your bed, toasty and warm, when there's a knock on your door. You sharply raise your head before turning to look at the clock.

8 a.m.

'Who in the hell is at my door at this hour?'

You begrudgingly throw the covers to the side, hand on the swell of your belly before rolling up from your side to sit on the edge of the bed, and step into your slippers. One hand underneath your 3rd trimester bump, you drag your feet towards the front door and open it.

A tall man with mutton chops and a black beanie is standing in front of you. He looks down at your heavily pregnant stomach and closes his eyes, softly shaking his head with a, 'Bloody fuckin' hell.'

Your face is contorting into confusion when he opens his mouth to say, "You must be Simon's fiancee."

Your heart starts to pound into your ribcage. You don't even try to refute his claim because you have an inkling of what this is about. 'Please god, no.'

"It is with deep regret that I am here to inform you of the untimely death of your fiance, Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley. He died on active duty, contributing his best to our cause. The reputation gained by your fiance is a fine one, and I hope the knowledge of this affords you pride and comfort during your sorrow. I extend my heartfelt sympathy to you."

Your throat is closing up, choking you as tears well in your eyes. Chest is on fire because you can't breathe and your chin is trembling with the struggle to not weep and fall on your knees. Taking a deep shuddering breath, you clench your teeth. You're livid. Whatever the fuck this is, it isn't good enough for your Simon.

Voice warbly and wet, you hiss, "I could've gotten a casualty letter from the bloody military if I wanted to hear you spew your shit," ending it with a sniffle.

"You're right. May I come in?"

Throwing the door open, you shuffle inside as John steps inside. You're about to sit down when you hear a "Let me.", before the chair you're about to sit on is pulled back. Holding the underside of your belly, you let out a huff as you drop your weight to the seat.

You turn to look at John and you see the clench in his jaw before he opens his mouth to try and speak but he cuts himself off with a clearing of his throat. He takes a second before swallowing and grips the back of one of your dinner table chairs before attempting to speak again.

"Simon was one of my best." Your eyes soften at how frail and shaky his voice sounds.

"He was always at my six. Said it was to be the eyes I didn't have at the back of my head. But I know he always had his facing an open area whenever I was turned around. He died for me. Had he been standing anywhere else other than behind me, he would still be here," and he breaks down, shaky sobs leaving him.

You slowly get up, hand to your lower back before moving to him and giving him an embrace as you wail into his shirt— mourning the loss of a loved one.

It seems like a long time before John taps your upper back and says, "Come. This cannot be good for the baby. You need some relaxing tea, eh?"

With hiccupping breaths, you pull away to look at him before nodding.

"Come. You're gonna make it for me. I wish to get to know what kind of extraordinary man you must be. Simon would not have given his life for less."

He gives a self-deprecating chuckle before he digs into his pockets, before holding his fist out, dog tags glinting under the light and a small white square between his thumb and index. That square has your address written in shorthand and it had a bloody streak over a part of it— the streak the shape of a finger, as if ripped out from someone's hand.

"His dog tags. As well as what Simon on his dying breath. He carried this with him, and by the state of how crumpled it is, he had it everywhere with him."

You take the chain, putting it around your neck— tags resting against your belly— before taking the paper. It's a photo of you. You're in a flower sundress, skin glowing under the rays of the sun with a blinding smile and rosy cheeks. You knew this photo. Simon always claimed it was his favorite. That he loved your smile here because He had made you smile like that.

Your tears are slipping from your eyes and dripping onto your pajamas before picking up the dog tags and pressing a kiss onto the cold metal, then letting them drop. Little baby Riley gives a swift kick to where the tags landed on your stomach.

@thychuvaluswife

[sovasleepy]

hot and cold

[gekko x gn!reader] - you're an agent with such a seemingly cold exterior - both physical and metaphorical - but being gekko’s saving grace might change some minds about you.

warnings: the agents kinda make assumptions about the reader, a little hurt/comfort if you squint real hard. brief mentions of injuries, unconsciousness, very minor swearing

notes: tbh a “reyna being a motherly figure to gekko” vibe popped out a little too hard but i digress. requested by anon, i hope you enjoy!

kingdom's agents were well trained.

from the freezing temperatures of russia, to the most humid days on bermudian islands, the agents were resilient to all types of weather. today wasn't supposed to be particularly challenging in that aspect. a routine mission in some section of los angeles didn't sound particularly hot.

in fact, it had been the least of your worries about two hours ago.

you respected all of the agents on the protocol, especially considering the facts that not only were you newest addition, but some of the agents on this particular trip were among the first.

reyna, omen, cypher, and gekko stood next to you as the jet approached the site you were landing at. it felt almost childish to you that you were more nervous to be around your own coworkers than you were thinking about the fact that you could be lying dead any minute now.

they hadn’t ever directly been mean to you.

omen, bless him, was never any good at showing too much concern so you didn’t mind the cold shoulder you often felt from him.

cypher had his own secretive issues, and so did reyna.

that said, you never quite found your place amongst the agents. granted, you hadn’t been here too long, but the creeping and perpetual sense of being unwanted bothered you. to add to this, your abilities directly harmed the abilities of other agents. thus, your training sessions were always against your coworkers, which didn't always seem to sit well.

speaking technically, your ability did revolve around the manipulation of heat just like phoenix's did... only, you controlled the absence of it. the reaction of his abilities made fire, and yours made ice. this meant that you and phoenix either paired a little too well.

or not at all, depending on how one wants to look at it.

and then there were the other agents. kay/o's body produced a little heat, but ultimately couldn't produce enough to shake the ice. the same for killjoy's bots, cypher's tech, chamber's utility, sova's bow, even harbor's water.

and so you began keeping to yourself.

except for on missions, when communication was key. only your communications were down, and had been for some time.

the only people you could find were dead. slouched, bloodied bodies against buildings or in doorways seemed to mock you. luckily, none of them had been the faces of those on the mission with you.

that was until you heard a weak warbling. you called back to whatever created had made the noise, and was met with another weaker sound. still, you followed the creatures direction. after a few moments of sifting through debris, you were met with the dusty and bloody face of gekko.

dizzy sat curled up in his lap. his arm was limp, but bent as if he had been holding her close. for a brief moment, you thought he was dead. however, his chest rose and fell and slow, scarily shallow breaths. he was alive at least. the next thing on your agenda was to find the source of his unconsciousness, and hopefully stop it.

you knelt down to his level. he was slouched against the wall, head lolled to his left. there were splotches of dried blood on him, just the occasional mark on his clothing or his skin, but it didn't appear to be his.

his outer thigh had a darker patch of blood, thicker and definitely coming from him. however, the wound didn’t seem like it would be severe enough to have led to his current state. something else was wrong.

you continued to inspect him. his skin was pale, but cold and sweaty. this had to be the cause, right? but there was something deeper than that, those were simply more symptoms. you looked around and observed where gekko was. the trail in the dirt around him wasn’t footsteps, but was instead the markings of gekko half-dragging himself to where he was sat.

but yet he wasn’t in any danger at the time. the only pair of footsteps that had been close to him belonged to an already-dead enemy. so he dragged himself there for what? the shade that surrounding buildings and debris provided?

of course.

your alignment with the cold also gave you the benefit of not feeling the heat so harshly. it was the middle of a californian summer afternoon, of course it was hot.

heat exhaustion. that’s what was wrong with him.

you allowed yourself to feel the cool of chilled air surround your arms. you passed a hand over dizzy and wingman, who made weak noises of thanks. as much as you would like to help them, gekko needed you more right now.

you sat down beside him and pulled him onto your lap, his head on your stomach and him situated half on and half between your legs. you didn't want to turn him too cold too quickly, worried that the rapid change might cause him more harm. to the best of your ability, you slowly chilled your own body and the air around you.

one hand was placed on his forehead and the other arm hung over chest in an attempt to disperse the cool. dizzy, apparently feeling better, wormed her way up under his feet. elevating his legs was supposed to help too, right? maybe she knew that.

faintly, you heard a noise come from gekko’s earpiece.

“mateo? answer me, mateo. are you okay?”

the voice belonged to reyna. you hadn’t enteracted with her as much as you would’ve liked, but you respected her nonetheless.

you took your hand away from his forehead. after unbinding your own broken earpiece and tossing it, you leaned down to get closer to his. pressing the small button on the side, you spoke into it.

“hello? this is y/n. gekko is with me. i think he’s going to be fine, but he’s unconscious, and i really don’t know what i’m doing.”

“y/n?” the voice belonged to cypher this time. “how about you? are you alright? your communications and vital signs went down. we thought we lost you.”

“i’m… okay, i think? a few bumps and bruises, but nothing too bad apart from the earpiece i’ll be paying for.”

“good.” reyna spoke again. “omen is here, too. we have mateo’s location and we’re on our way. a medic is with us. just keep him alive until then.”

“got it.”

rushed as it may be, the concern they showed you warmed your heart. but everything felt like it was going to be okay. help was on its way, everyone was alive, and the mission was successful.

“just me and you guys,” you spoke, looking down at wingman and dizzy, who looked equally worried.

true to their word, the jet landed close to you roughly three minutes later. reyna was the first one to step foot off the aircraft, and the next thirty minutes went by in a blur. when your brain finally settled from its adrenaline high, you plopped down in a chair next to gekko’s bed in the makeshift-infirmary of the jet. reyna stood at the end of the bed. her arms were crossed and she wore her usual stern and hard-to-read face.

“the doctor said he was be alright, y’know.” she spoke after what felt like twenty minutes of comfortable silence.

you looked up from where you had been spaced out, staring at gekko. wingman was on the floor at your feet and you were absently letting him play with your fingers. however, he stopped to look up at reyna too.

“i hope so. i was… scared. honestly, i was beginning to think you guys would have left me. not that i would blame you. everything was down, you had every right to assume i was dead.”

“never.” she spoke. there was a chilling certainty in her voice. “you are an asset.”

“i suppose.” you paused for a beat, debating whether or not to finish your sentence. “i adore you guys. all of you. i think i just have a hard time finding my value to you all.”

you were met with silence. it festered, feeding the anxiety already unfurling within your chest. finally, reyna spoke again.

“admittedly, it’s hard to join the protocol and feel like you fit in. mateo felt the same way when he first joined, too, but the feeling goes away eventually. he wanted to speak to you, y’know?”

“he did?”

“all the time. he has this… fantastical way about him when he speaks about you. like he has all these… emotions or something built up, and instead of talking to you he’s trying to fit them all into two sentences while i’m still drinking my damn coffee.”

you couldn’t help but smile. you were always so nervous to talk to him, yet you never took the time to consider the fact that maybe he was nervous to talk to you too.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Don't cry. || Nikto

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: E Words: 3K~ (this one got away from me) Pairing: rogue asset!Nikto x civilian!Reader cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT., bad/incorrect medical care, injuries (described), being held at gunpoint, verbal and physical threats, blood and gore. other tags: you/your pronouns. fat/chubby!reader, no russian. Summary: A stranger takes you hostage in your own home and demands medical care... But you might have gotten more than you can chew. a/n: YES, Nikto’s voice actor is only 5ft10 but he’s 6ft5 in my mind, and I’m in charge sooo.

It's cold as all fucking hell in your small town. No. Not as all hell. Because you're pretty sure hell is supposed to be boiling hot.

Why did your family have to come from this small town in bum-fuck-nowhere Russia? And more importantly why did you decide to move back here after college?

Oh, yeah. The house. The little home that your grandma lived in since she was a child, that was fully paid and required no rent, and had very low property taxes due to it being ancient… And was left to you in her will. 

Well, in days like these, you can't help but despise the stupid fucking house. 

The pipes are frozen, which means you've resorted to getting water from the local firehouse every morning, as do the rest of your neighbors. Plus, it's freezing even with multiple layers of clothes and socks and scarves on. You sleep in front of the fireplace all winter and still fear you'll be dead in the morning.

Every year it's the damn same.

Maybe going to study in Moscow and then doing your master's and doctorate abroad softened you up. But you didn't remember it being so fucking cold.

Having as much meat on your bones as you do, it really shouldn't be as difficult as it is to withstand the cold. Sometimes you wonder if all those damn studies about how fat helps preserve body heat didn't apply only when people had heat to preserve.

Those are the thoughts in your head as you throw your last log in the fireplace and realize you need to get more from the woodpile outside. "Mother fucker goddamn piece of shit..." You complained.

Throwing on a winter coat over your robe, you stuff your double-socked feet into your winter boots, cover your head with a beanie and wrap yourself in a scarf.

Then you venture outside with the flashlight from your junk drawer, to illuminate the way. The wind outside is biting and the snow is tall, causing you to almost trip over your own feet.

"Fuck... fuck... fuck... cold." You grumble under your breath.

Sticking the flashlight between your teeth, you grab a few logs of firewood and slip them vertically into a black milk crate at your feet, trying to hurry so you can go back inside.

As soon as the box is stacked as full as you can carry, you bend at the knees and hurl it up by the handles, gritting your teeth against the flashlight between your teeth.

That's when you feel something hard press against the back of your head... and you hear a muffled voice. "Don't scream. Don't look back. Just move." The command chills your spine more than the -17ºC weather outside.

Your eyes shoot wide open in a panic and you have to force yourself to resist trying to look back. Instead, you nod and wobble your way along to the backdoor while carrying the heavy crate of firewood.

Once you slip inside, you set the crate down in the kitchen floor and take the opportunity to look out of the corner of your eye at the the stranger that held you hostage. 

He slams the door shut behind you and deadbolts it shut, then he rushes to the window, ripping the curtains shut.

He's wearing a flight suit and military gear but it's all in a navy color that you don't recognize… Maybe the Navy? But what would a Navy soldier being doing here alone, in the middle of the woods in your land locked town? Plus, he's clearly armed, carrying a pistol in one hand. The other wraps around his midsection and he's leaving a trail of small blood droplets on your floor.

His face is covered by a mask that looks more like a bunch of denim patched together than anything, leaving only his eyes showing. It’s even bolted to itself to not be easily removable.

“Where?” He asks you, eyes and gun trained on you as you straighten up and show your hands in innocence.

“Where… Where what?” You ask in confusion. Your body trembles all over and you’re pretty sure that you’re going to piss your pants if he keeps staring at you like that and barking vague orders at you.

“WHERE?!” He insists, raising his voice in a growl that sounds more animal than human. “WHERE. ARE. WE?” He adds, his voice boiling with anger and condescension.

“P-Provrsk!” You shout the name of your town as you flinch away from his own raised voice. Your gaze is locked onto him, taking in his mask and the blue eyes that stare at you from behind them.

You’ve never had to worry about a masked intruder in your home, ever. This is a small town, this sort of thing doesn’t happen here. Especially not one that looks like he’s deserted from the FSB.

“DATE?” He shouts at you again, making you flinch once more as your whole body tenses and curls into itself in fear. 

“8th of February… Thursday.” You reply, your eyes beginning to well up in tears. “Please… don’t hurt me…”

You’ve never been the crybaby type, in fact, you’d say you’re pretty good at staying contained in your day-to-day life, even when life is beating you down… But something about a 2 meter tall man in your kitchen shouting at you while waving a pistol around terrifies you to your very core…

With a deep breath, he leans himself back against the kitchen counter and another animalistic growling escapes him as his left leg straightens and twitches under him, his knee likely weakened. He’s still clutching his side with his hand and more blood puddles at his feet, dripping between gloved fingers.

He looks like he’s immeasurable amounts of pain and considering he seems to have walked here with an injury that’s still bleeding, you can’t help but wonder if the adrenaline isn’t starting to wear off.

The sight of him is pitiful… And for a moment he’s not some terrifyingly “You need… a doctor?” You ask him, more in a tone of affirmation than of question. He needs a doctor and you know it.

“No doctor.” He replies sharply, showing he still has all his mental faculties in place… Somewhat.

“You’re hurt.” You remark softly. “Bleeding all over my floor.” You add. You’re trying your best not to shake and cry and you’re not quite sure you’re succeeding.

“No doctor.” He insists as he shifts his weight around on his legs and hisses. "Needle, thread and alcohol." He demands of you and you’re not stupid enough to disagree with the armed man.

“In the upper cabinet behind you… The metal tin.” You instruct while barely pointing your finger at the cabinet door on his left side for fear that any more sudden movements will cause him to take you as a threat.

He sets the gun very carefully on the edge of the counter so that his free hand can reach up and over, patting at the cabinet, throwing the door open and feeling around inside for the aforementioned metal tin.

He’s been smart enough to put your small kitchen table between you either way, preventing any sudden lunging activity from you.

He never once turns his back on you, not even his face. His eyes are still locked on you, sending shivers down your body, making sure you don’t try anything… Not that you’d be stupid enough to dare.

He finally grabs the repurposed butter cookie tin and sets it next to him on the counter before grabbing the pistol once more and aiming it at you. “Metal spoon.” He demands.

“Over there… second drawer from the left…” You point discreetly at the drawer by the stove. 

“Get one.” He demands again and so you do, hands raised, taking very tentative steps across the kitchen, your heavy snow boots thudding against the floor.

Carefully, you lower your hand and pull open the drawer. Before you can even try to grab a spoon, you hear him bark at you again. “Only a spoon. Don’t try to grab a knife.” He warns you. 

Nodding very slowly, you reach inside the drawer and retrieve a metal table spoon and show it to him. “Stove.” He orders you again.

“Heat it up?” You ask softly and he grunts in what you assume is confirmation as he nods curtly at you. “I need matches.” You point at the drawer again and very slowly fetch the box of matches before closing the drawer.

Turning very carefully toward the old stove, you turn one of the knobs and strike a match, lighting the burner before extinguishing the match. “Heat the handle.” He demands and you nod in understanding as you peek at him sheepishly.

Slowly, you grip the spoon by the bowl and hold the metal handle over the flame, moving it ever so slightly to ensure an even heating up of the tip, your eyes locked on the flame and the slowly reddening type of the metal spoon.

While your back is turned, you can hear some rustling and a heavy thud on the floor. You assume he’s getting rid of his heavy gear in order to patch himself up… “Hurry up.” He barks.

“I can’t speed up the fire.” You reply softly, too afraid to speak too loud. 

“Watch your tongue, or else I’ll cut it off.” He adds, his voice grunted through as you hear some more rustling. His threat was enough to send chills down your spine and sent you back into muteness. 

Another minute or so later, you can feel the heat spreading across the whole spoon and even the bowl is too hot to hold. “It’s ready.”

“Move, quick.” He demands and you turn to face him, finding him still in the same spot, across the kitchen, leaning against the wall. He’s shed his plate vest, and undone the zipper of his flight suit, removing the sleeves and leaving it to hang around his hip. That exposes his torso completely, per lack of any undershirts or other layers. You wonder how he hasn’t frozen out there in just a flight suit…

The sight of him is so shocking and… disgusting. You feel your stomach turning, the warm meal you had an hour ago threatening to come out the way it came. He’s covered in scars, his chest speckled in patches of red skin or pale, melaninless skin, something you can only assume are burn scars.

The right half of his torso is covered in dried blood, sporting a hapharzard, thick suture that you can only assume he did a few days ago considering how swollen and red the skin around it is… Infected.

And, of course, the pouring, wet, red blood that escapes from his left side… It looks like he took a gash on it… maybe a gunshot, maybe an explosion, who’s to say… But he’s definitely got a hole and he’s leaking like a faucet.

“MOVE!” He barks at you, causing you to jump, startled out of from your shock-induced trance and you quickly rush over. He grabs the spoon from you with more aggression than you expected and shoves you away with a swift elbow to your side, to force you away from him. You fall on your ass, grunting softly upon landing. 

When you were younger, kids used to joke that all your fat would serve as an airbag in the case of a car crash, but the truth is, as you landed on the floor, you ass and legs hurt… As did you side from the elbow you took to it.

Your eyes well up in tears at the soreness on your body, as well as the sound that escapes him and reverberates through your kitchen as he sticks the red-hot spoon handle onto his open wound, gritting his teeth behind his mask as he cauterizes the wound shut. The sound is terrifying, like a gurgle mixed with a shout and an animalistic growl. (find the scream inspo here) 

You don’t want to look. But he’s doing this inches away from your face. You can’t help but watch in horror.

HIs legs shake underneath him and he struggles to keep himself upright but succeeds by landing his elbow and forearm on the edge of the counter. The hand that’s holding the pistol, the left one, flexes around the handle, fingers trembling with the pain. He struggles to stay on his feet as his right hand keeps softly twisting the spoon handle in his wound before pulling it out.

He grunts as he lets the bloody spoon fall on the floor at his feet and his head falls back with a couple more grunts and huffs, resting on the upper cabinets, his right hand clutching the wound again for a moment. You’re sobbing on the floor. Something about the sight you just got broke your resolve for a moment. You’re afraid… Very much so.

Just as you’re trying to calm yourself down, crawling backward over to the table to use a table as support to stand up from the floor, the sewing supplies tin crashes onto the floor at your feet with a ruckus so loud you can’t help but squeal.

Looking up at him, you notice him glaring at you. “Suture.” He demands angrily.

“I-” You attempt to speak but you can’t. Too afraid and too choked up to succeed in more than a light stammer.

“SUTURE!” He repeats his demand, his voice loud and sending chills to the innermost part of you as he leans forward a bit to look at you.

“STOP YELLING AT ME!” You shout in return through whimpers and whines.

“Stop crying. You have no reason to cry yet.” He warns you, his voice bitter and mean.

Your whole body quakes as you sob and scramble up on all fours, to grab the tin of sewing supplies from the floor.  You pop it open with shaky hands and rummage inside, searching for your pink pin cushion and, upon finding it, you plucked out a needle.

“You’re scaring me…” You were able to get out through trembling lips as you grab a spool of black thread.

“We will do much worse than scare you if you don’t start moving faster.” He tells you. “Do not test my capacity for violence.” He adds. “Now move.”

Slowly, you crawl over to him and kneel between his parted legs. You’re so close, you can smell him… And he smells gross… He reeks of sweat and piss, which mixes with the metallic scent of his blood, and gunpowder that lingers on his flightsuit which he now wears as pants only.

Your trembling form makes you struggle to thread the needle but after a few attempts, you succeed and unfurl much more thread than you’d realistically need. While you do so, his pistol changes grips and his right hand holds it aimed right at your head.

Slowly, you push the needle through his skin, grimacing at the wet noise it makes as you drag it through and you hold back a gag and a sob as you try your best to suture him shut. 

You don’t know much about medicine… But you’re pretty sure you’re supposed to do a ladder stitch so you can pull the thread taut at the end and ensure the injury closes… So that’s what you start doing, trying your best to not tremble all the way through it.

He’s holding himself surprisingly calmly through it as you stab his skin/wound multiple times… You risk looking up at him, your eyes still teary, your lips trembling, your face red from holding back tears and a gag. 

All you find is a pair of soulless blue eyes staring down at you through the two holes of that mask. They seem as cold and unforgiving as the snow outside… They’re bloodshot and the pupils are dilated. And he seems to be looking at you with a predatory gaze that makes you feel small and insignificant.

"Who are you...?" You ask tentatively, surprising yourself at how small your voice sounded, how meek.

"Nobody." He reply  as he leaned the pistol against your temple. “Finish.” He demands. 

Gulping and nodding, you finish the stitching and pull it taut, which earns you a hiss from him. You tie off the thread and snip it off with a pair of little scissors from the sewing supply box.

Just as you’re about to pull away from him, the needle between your pointer and middle fingers and your hands raised in an act of peace, he pistol whips you across the temple.

You squeal in pain, and throw your hands on the floor to support yourself from fully falling on your side, losing the needle somewhere in the tile floor of the kitchen. Your eyes are cloudy with tears again as you whimper in pain, unaware of what caused that violence. 

Is he going to kill you? Steal from you? Make you prisoner in your own home?

“Don’t move.” He demands. “It’s not finished.” He warns you as you struggle to get back on your sore knees.

You watch in horror as he shifts position, to no longer be kneeling on his elbow on the counter, and instead straightens up. His right hand continues pointing the gun at you and, very slowly, the left inches his flight suit down some more.

Slowly, you’re exposed to the sight a large gash across his left thigh, that draws down diagonally to his left knee which is swollen red and bruised…

As well as an obvious lack of underwear and a semi-hardened cock laying against his right thigh, the hilt surrounded by bushy blonde pubes. Your eyes double in size and you have to once again contain yourself from gagging and crying in disgust.

“Get back to work.” He demands as he points at the wounds on his leg. “And don't you dare cry." He adds. "Or else I'll give you other reasons to cry about.” He warns as his hand glides over his cock.

This is fully inspired by the beautiful work written by @391780, gotta love all the nikto ficlets and all the fat!reader stuff! Also wrote this a bit as a request by @ms-rayray who asked me for fat!reader stuff, and also a shoutout to @xxshadowbabexx and her eternal love for nikto.

[weskin-time]

I don’t t go here but how about sharing body heat with John price headcanons? Like if it’s cold outside and the both of you are stranded. Alone. 👀 (feel free to ignore just giving ideas haha)

i’m sorry this took. months. i love when i write and hit the save button only for it to not save. >:/ BUT I HOPE I DID YOUR ASK JUSTICE!

Captain John Price x GN!Reader

not beta read

Cold air curled into your lungs and made its home on your skin, burning the back of your throat and searing your flesh as if it was hot out, but it was freezing.

There was no snow, just dry cold air that made your sinus’s cry out in pain, no moisture in the air just a winter haze in a forest. Frozen dew drops clung to blades of grass, to the leaves shed on the forest floor like blankets, the dwindling light of the day promised an even colder night.

The twilight would have been peaceful if it had been a voluntary camping trip, if you weren’t stuck with your captain in the middle of the woods out in bumfuck-nowhere Russia.

It should have been easy, should have been an easy drive to a small town where the contact had been, but it was an ambush, a trap set up by Makarov to get you lot off his ass. Your small team was outnumbered and forced to retreat, but an explosion caused Price and you to be separated from Gaz and the rest of the small amount of men. A mine caught the captain and you off guard, causing the Humvee you were in to wreck, separating you from everyone, somehow Makarov’s men didn’t see you two slip into the woods that bordered the town.

“Damnit. You two are going to have to sit tight for the night.” Laswell spoke over the coms.

Good thing the army backpack your we’re wearing had supplies inside it, standard military issued foldable tent, a shitty sleeping bag, and then some. Price seemed to have lost his bag (or didn’t even bring it) in the explosion, meaning there was only one tent and sleeping bag to share between you two. Fun.

You barley paid any attention to the conversation going on behind you as you began to set up the tent, unzipping it from its little bag and trying to figure out how to set it up. It kind of reminded you like those folding frisbees you sometimes get at fairs or small events.

“Laswell-“ Price began to argue but was cut off.

“John it’s too hot right now to rescue the two of you, Makarovs men are still in the town, Im not going to argue with you. I’m sending a team your way before dawn tomorrow, you’ll be out of there in no time.” Her tone was final.

“Fuckin hell.”

The kept talking as you focused on the tent, tuning them out as you fed some tubes into the fabric of the green camo. Your nose felt numb, your fingers moved with a slowness of paralyzed flesh, the cold in the air seeped into your being freezing your blood. Your heavy fingers fumbled over the rough fabric as you sniffed your now running nose.

By the time Price was done complaining you had gotten the tent up. It was large enough for about 2 people, and thankfully the backpack you carried had a thin scratchy blanket to go along with it. Looks like you wouldn’t be camping warmly tonight.

“The tents up captain.” you called over your shoulder to where the man was just a few moments ago, jaw chattering slightly.

“Alright. Fuckin hell.” the last part was muttered under his breath.

———————————

It had been an hour since you set up the tent.

Twilight had come to cloak the forest in darkness, the birds who were chirping and singing earlier had went to bed, it was too cold in the night air for them.

The temperature had to have dropped a few more degrees by sundown because your toes ached in the combat boots you wore, you could barely feel them let alone move them in the confines of the shoes. Your fingers felt like rocks, slow to move and what could best describe it as ‘clunky’.

It’s weird how the cold burns. Your skin felt like it was on fire minus the heat, your thighs didn’t help warm up your hands as you pressed your legs harder around your fingers to provide any warmth at all, instead it just make your skin ache. What’s worse is you couldn’t make a fire.

Makarov’s men were still in the area Price had confirmed, while y’all were deeper in the woods to where it would take them a while to find you even if they tried to look in the forest, it would still be too risky to attract them from the smoke of a fire, and everything was too cold and frozen to have a smokeless fire, you needed dry wood with no bark for that.

You and your captain had huddled up in the tent for the night. Price was currently on watch, which left you alone in the tent to rest.

But it was too cold to sleep. It was too cold to even think. You sat in the fetal position with your arms around your thighs instead of your knees, pressing your fingers into the crevasse of your thighs to provide some warmth, but none coming to you. A blanket from the sleeping bag was wrapped around you, it was too cold to even lay flat in the sleeping bag, you had to huddle to stay somewhat warm, and even then you felt the buzzing, burning, numb feeling of the cold. You were able to handle torture if needed, but this? this was hell. The blanket did nothing.

“Shift change.” He announced before unzipping the flap and sitting fully in the tent ready to switch positions with you but he stopped when he saw your shivering state.

Your head was on your knees and you honestly couldn’t tell if you were shivering worse than he was. Your skin looked dull from what he could see and that instantly worried him.

He shifted over to you on his knees, shutting the tent flap behind him, “You alright?”

You weakly looked up at him only to be met with his sudden expression of shock and worry all mixed into one. You could barely see in the moonlight but you’d be able to sniff out the expression sense you haven’t seen him ever express it before.

Your lips were turning blue.

“Fuckin hell,” he groaned out a string of curses as he put down his gun and took off his vest and placed it with yours in the corner of the tent. You could barely understand what he was muttering, something about muppets? Fuck if you knew.

“Imma move you, right?” He asked full knowing he was going to do it regardless if you said yes or no, so you have a weak grunt in approval.

You didn’t want to move, moving meant you’d loose all the warmth you’ve built up be it not much. John sat down close to you and took the blanket off you, which you barely even noticed, and wrapped his large warm hands around your midsection and hooked his other under your knees, lifting you up to sit in between his legs. You were facing sideways against him with your shoes under his thigh as both of his legs wrapped around your frame. He pushed your head to rest against his chest and instantly your hands found their place resting against his ribs.

His arms wrapped around you with the blanket, draping it around the two of you as he held you against him.

If you were in your right mind you would protest against your captains actions, but survival was more important in this moment. Plus you honestly didn’t mind being this close to him, feeling his breath on the top of your head as he huddled into you, his strong heartbeat hammering in your ears in a calming manner, and slowly the warmth of the two of you beginning to grow under the trap of the blanket, making your skin feel as if it was thawing. You felt safe in his arms like this.

“That better?” Price asked resting his head on your own.

A whine of ‘mmhmm’ escaped your throat at the question.

“Get some rest ey? Gaz’ll be here by dawn.” Reassuring words from your captain almost put a spell on you as you instantly felt your eyelids grow heavy. You absentmindedly snuggled closer into his chest and shifted your weight to rest fully against him. A hum of contentment released like a balloons air escaping. You really should be embarrassed a little about this situation but you were too cold and tired to care, you were just glad you could feel your fingers again.

Right at the cusp of sleep where your brain was swimming in the ideas of a dream a soft pressure surrounded by what felt like fuzzy grass tickled your forehead.

John had given you a kiss on the head, “Sleep love.”

You’d worry about everything later in the morning when you’re rescued and after you’ve been seen by a doctor.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

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 Со��нышко! 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.

TAGS:

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[dasha-aibo]

People in Moscow suburbs are literally freezing to death

Two weeks ago, the heating and water pipes burst in a number of smaller towns around Moscow

Russia is a country that relies on central heating and water supply

People are going to sleep with primitive coal/gas/firewood burners and never waking up

All because the pipes that needed to be replaced decades ago are at their limits

This doesn't even have anything to do with the war, although the diverted resources don't help

This is about how Putin and Co neglected the repairs of critical infrastructure in the last 23 years

This is what one strong leader, no elections, no freedom gets you

[cricket-reader]

Mutual Agreement

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox

Summary: whilst on a mission, you and Bucky get caught in the cold. Your body doesn’t handle the temperature well, being you’re not a supersoldier. Your state brings back memories of Bucky’s life before Hydra, making him fear for your health.

Warnings: language, hypothermia, crying, mentions of death, fluff

Word Count: 1,551

Prompt: Delirium | Hypothermia | Stabilisation

A/N: Day 4 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom

Bucky never showed his emotions. He was a closed book, and he intended to keep it that way. But that all shattered to pieces one fateful mission.

You and Bucky had been assigned to take down an abandoned Hydra base in Russia. Bucky had wanted to go alone, but Steve insisted that he went with a partner. That partner just so happened to be you, the girl that Bucky admired from afar.

You were strong, intelligent, and beautiful. He admired you for that and all the good you had done. You were better than him in every single way.

Finding and destroying the base was an easy matter. It was abandoned, therefore, there were no surprise attacks. It was the perfect mission. No injuries, no deaths, and most importantly to Bucky, not even a hair on your head was harmed.

Things only went downhill from there.

The getaway vehicle you had parked in the forest refused to start again. It didn’t matter what Bucky did, the vehicle refused to start up. On top of that, it was freezing in the vehicle. Almost as cold as it was outside, without the wind, of course.

If your shivering was anything to go by, Bucky knew you both couldn’t stay there. On his GPS, the safe house wasn’t far away. The supersoldier could make it on foot no problem. He just wasn’t so sure about you.

Internally, his thoughts were running rampant. On the outside, he looked as calm and collected as usual.

“We shouldn’t stay here. Do you think you can walk to the safe house?”

You bit your lip. “Sure.”

Bucky didn’t trust the tone of your voice whatsoever, but he didn’t let it show. He had to get you to warmth before he lost you.

You both exited the useless vehicle, and trudged your way towards the cabin.

It didn’t take long for your hands to start shaking, and your steps to begin faltering. You had to stay strong, though. You couldn’t face the embarrassment of failure in front of a teammate that you swore hated your guts.

The feeling in your face as well as your feet had long since vanished. Your fingers hadn’t had feeling since you reached the vehicle. These were not good signs, but you resigned to deal with it since the cabin was coming into your view.

Bucky noticed you lagging behind before you did. His heart raced, wanting to pick you up and bolt to the cabin where he could get you warm. He knew, however, that you would not like that notion. You’d probably smite him if he dared lay a finger on you. You liked your space, hating when people invaded it. Because although you were kind, you too had boundaries. Physical touch just happened to be yours.

It wasn’t until you tripped and fell into the snow that he decided, “screw that” and picked you up from the ground. You were trembling so hard, as cold as ice and it fucking scared him.

You let out a small noise of protest as he gathered you in his arms and began to run to the cabin. You could do it yourself. You just needed a little rest, that’s all.

Bucky slammed the door to the cabin open and slammed it shut before running to set you on the ground. He took off your soaked jacket and boots. You gently pushed him away, not really able to put any force behind it. “I can do it myself,” you muttered indignantly.

Whilst Bucky usually loved your sense of independence, it only served to frustrate him. He pouted with his signature grumpy face, arms crossed and all. He watched you peel off your drenched socks. Your fingers were still trembling.

He just wanted to help. You turned to go to one of the rooms, hoping to find a new pair of pants that weren’t wet.

You overestimated your ability to walk. Tripping over nothing probably had to be the most embarrassing thing you had ever done in front of Barnes. He didn’t hesitate to catch you. In Bucky’s arms you wanted nothing more than to melt into a puddle of shame.

Bucky muttered something to himself as he carried you to the nearest room. He set you on the ottoman in front of the bed before going to ruffle through the closet. He found some clothes for you to wear.

He turned around to give them to you, so you could change yourself. When he saw you falling asleep, he dashed to your side. You couldn’t fall asleep on him now. “C’mon, wake up,” he muttered, not a trace of worry evident in either his tone or on his face. He was determined to keep calm in front of you. Freaking out would do no good.

You blearily opened your eyes. It was so cold. Why were you so cold? You were in the warmth now. You should be fine.

“I’m gonna change your clothes now, okay? Is that alright?” Bucky asked. He didn’t want to do anything without your consent, but if worse came to worse, he would have to. He just needed to stabilise you before things got any worse. You just groaned in response. Cursing under his breath, Bucky dutifully peeled off your pants and dressed you in the sweats he had found. He left your shirt on, since it wasn’t affected by the snow. He didn’t want to do anything more. Not without your consent.

In your state of delirium, you barely noticed that he had picked you up and carried you to bed. You barely noticed the way he took care to wrap you in multiple blankets.

When you woke up, you were incredibly warm. You were also practically trapped in a cocoon of blankets. Groaning, you unwrapped yourself from the layers upon layers of blankets.

You tiptoed your way into the hallway. Looking around, you didn’t see Barnes anywhere.

You furrowed your brows when you heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom down the hall.

You creeped to the door and pressed your ear against it. You could hear ragged breaths and choked sobs coming from behind the door. It had to be Bucky. No one else would be out here. However, you’d never seen him cry. He always was so strong given what he’d been through. He was resilient. So what could have prompted his tears? Did he have a nightmare? You knew from Steve that he was struggling with them. Your hand hesitated at the door handle. How you longed to go in there and comfort him, to wrap him in your arms and tell him he was safe now. But you knew he was a private person. He hated it when people saw him vulnerable, and you didn’t blame him.

All it took to break your hesitance was a sob.

Bucky had a hard time keeping everything in. He didn’t mean to let it out, but god he couldn’t help it. Seeing you look so pale and weak, your ice cold skin and shivering body… it reminded him of Steve. Little Steve back when they were kids. He thought Steve was going to die that cold January night. Bucky had stayed with him the whole night, praying to anyone that would listen to not take away his best friend.

It was like history was repeating itself and just the thought of you dying tore him to shreds. Now, Bucky didn’t believe in any god, not after all he went through with Hydra, but you bet your ass he had prayed. He didn’t get too far before his emotions caught up with him, hitting him head on like a bus.

That led him to the moment where you burst through the door. Your concerned features swept Bucky’s distraught figure. He was in the corner of the room, curled up into a ball. He didn’t even notice you, too busy trying to get air into his lungs.

Your heart tore at the sight of him so broken. You gently moved up beside him and kneeled just a few feet away. “Bucky?”

His red, watery eyes looked up at you like you were a ghost. Those eyes widened as he scrambled to make himself look like less of a mess. He sniffled back his tears and ran his hands over his eyes. Red creeped onto the tips of his ears and the back of his neck, completely ashamed you were seeing him like this.

His body froze when you wordlessly wrapped your arms around his body. He wanted to cry all over again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him as if he were something precious. It took him a few seconds before he returned the gesture, hesitant to touch you. He could hurt you… or what if this was all just a figment of his imagination. Bucky didn’t want your tender hold to disappear.

You both stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for the rest of the night. Not a word needed to be said between you both. In your silence was a mutual agreement. An agreement that no one had to know about Bucky’s meltdown. An agreement that you wouldn’t ask questions. An agreement that this is what both of you needed. Some comfort.

[highlights-of-the-lowlife]

a few thoughts on the summer offensive.

many Experts are saying the ukrainian effort has been a failure simply for not gaining land and tend to put the blame squarely on the ukrainian people. nevermind that the first stages began so late because pledged western aid like fighting vehicles and ammunition arrived late. nevermind that many of the mine clearing vehicles pledged never arrived at all. nevermind the tactics and plans we pushed on them are based on 30 year old tactical thinking that ignores drones and demands air superiority.

its got to be the ukrainians because it certainly couldn't be us.

ukraine tried the speed and noise high mobility tactics that were the standard plan for dealing with a russian invasion of europe. thats what led to the columns of bradleys being destroyed early on. the russians are dug in, watching everywhere they can with drones and laying more landmines than possibly anywhere in the world. ukraine adjusted their plans to smaller groups aiming for smaller goals through cautious movement.

in doing so they have still taken ground, penetrated two lines of defense and importantly managed between a 1 in 4 to 1 in 20 friendly to enemy casualty rate. thats unheard of. especially for a smaller force without the technological edge. frankly i'm incredibly proud of them.

the russian forces are in for a harsh winter. ukraine has done an amazing job demolishing enemy logistics. just recently they cut the major rail artery between russia and china 4000km from the ukrainian border. russian troops are going to be freezing, starved and lacking in ammunition to throw back.

you know its bad when putin is bringing back the mother heroine award to encourage bigger families.

slava ukraini

[not-that-syndrigast]

The Haas and Uralkali situation explained

Some of you might’ve heard of it, those that didn’t should now. In the course of this race weekend, news came out that equipment and the cars of the Haas F1 team could be seized, as they owe their former sponsor Uralkali money, and as long as they don’t repay that money, their assets, in this case cars and equipment could be seized. All of this could lead to them missing the Italian Grand Prix, if not more, but what exactly happened and what will Haas do now? I’ll try to answer these questions and give my opinion on the situation, but i’ll preface all of this by saying that I am not legally involved in any of this, which means I can also only give you public knowledge and while i tried my hardest to research all the facts, it’s impossible to be sure that everything is correct, but more to that later.

Back to the problem; where did all of this start?

Uralkali ‘is a Russian potash fertilizer producer and exporter’ as stated on Wikipedia. It’s a pretty big company with a lot of assets, in 2018, they had assets worth roughly $8 billion. With these big numbers in mind, Uralkali became a sponsor of Haas in 2021. I’ll make a separate post about  sponsors, but important to know for this is that sponsors hold contracts with the teams. They give the teams money that's needed and in return, depending on how much they gave, they get things back from the team. As you’ve probably guessed, Uralkali gave quite a big sum of money to Haas, they became title sponsor, so for 2021, Haas was officially called ‘Uralkali Haas F1 team’, their cars livery was in the russian flag and they signed Nikita Mazepin, son of Dmitry Mazepin who’s one of the most influential Uralkali shareholders. It’s not quite clear how much money Haas got, but multiple sources talk about roughly $12 million, which makes sense if you take all factors into account.

From the money Haas made, they bought equipment and parts for the cars, so as far as sources state, all the money they initially got has been used up.

In 2022, following Russia's invasion of the Ukraine, many business people and oligarchs were sanctioned. I could not find clear statements of Uralkali itself being sanctioned too, but considering that most of the owners and shareholders are, I would assume that that puts the company also under certain sanctions. The important part here is that both Nikita and Dmitry Mazepin have been put under sanctions. These sanctions consist of asset freezes and travel bans, which resulted in Nikita Mazepins contract and the sponsoring contract being terminated by the team. 

Now this is where the problem starts; by contract, there's usually a clause that does not allow one party of the deal to just withdraw, at least not without paying their shares back. Due to the sanctions, though, it was not possible for Haas to pay the money that they owed back.

According to multiple sources, there was an arbitration court hearing in June in Switzerland, in which the court ruled that Haas needs to pay back the money that they owe Uralkali. Again, different sources talk about different amounts of money, since the ruling was kept private, but Uralkali states that by contract, they are also owed "a team race car from the 2021 season”. It’s difficult to rule out what really happened as different sources state different things, but they all have in common that Haas did not meet the required time to pay back whatever they owe, may that be because of the sanctions or because they lack the money, the important point is, Uralkali proceeded with a bid to get their court ruled money in assets. This race weekend, Haas has been apparently visited by bailiffs to evaluate what assets are of what value that could then be owed to Uralkali.

All of this is pretty irrelevant to the dutch grand prix, as it has been made sure that the valuation and official proceedings do not happen during the day and Haas has been ensured that this race weekend would continue, this could change though for the italian grand prix. If bailiffs decide which assets are worth the amount they owe Uralkali, these could be kept in the Netherlands until Haas pays or be taken as substitute for the money, although I am not sure where the legalities would lie there with what Uralkali is allowed to do with the assets then. 

The big problem for Haas right now, is paying. It's unclear if Haas has the money to pay it back, if they do it would obviously be a big setback because we are talking about millions of dollars here, but there is another problem; due to the sanctions, Haas states, the process of paying is difficult; “Haas has been working with its lawyers to ensure payment will comply with all relevant US, EU, UK and Swiss sanctions and regulations.” Uralkali states that this is not a good reasoning, but politics are difficult to follow, so even with extensive research I cannot guarantee you that paying is even a possibility without breaking sanctions by certain countries. For Haas the problem stays; they need to pay before Monday, or their assets will not be allowed to leave the Netherlands.

Due to this, rumors have surfaced, saying that this could be the end of Haas. Even if they pay the money and can compete in Italy, a lot of people expect it to be the final hit for Haas and possibly result in the team leaving or being bought up by Andretti, an American company that has tried to get into F1 for a while now. As of now, i cannot answer these rumors based on proof, but i can share my thoughts; leaving the sport completely is not as easy as it seems, there are contracts and rules, depending on the contracts, just leaving could cost Haas even more. Although selling the team would bypass these rules, selling a team takes time. Andretti could benefit from Haas being cheaper to buy than it would usually be, if the owners want to leave they’ll want to do it fast and for a team like Haas, you really cannot ask for much. In the end I do think though, that the rumors are unwarranted. If Haas gets sold, it's because they got a good offer, not because they suddenly want to leave when things get hard, especially since things were never easy at Haas to begin with.

I hope I explained and summarized the whole situation properly. As always, I'm open to explain my thoughts further and for comments and what you guys think of the situation and in this case rumors.