#Russia still standing strong

[another-one-bites-the-chipaguasu]

Ok but can we talk about the Geneva convention? Because tumblr seems to be the only place on earth that gives a fuck about it??? Who exactly is being punished by war crimes????

Who exactly is abiding by the magical war rules???

Who on earth has ever respected them???

That quote that was something like "if the crime is punished by money then the crime only exists for poor people" comes to mind!

[mindmelter]

A Body Stealer Tale: Tourists

Nikolay was a muscular and tall man; he was doing his night jogging when he passed by a gay couple; they looked like tourists.

He noticed the two men ogling him, but he was used to guys ogling his muscles, so he didn't pay much attention and just continued jogging.

"Freeze." Nikolay heard one of the men say behind him. For some reason, he did, and for some weirder reason, his vision got blurred and his mind became foggy.

He felt like his brain was hit by a strong blow leaving him disoriented.

"I have to wear this hunk! Take a photo of us babe." Nikolay heard one of them say, he then saw the short, bald guy approach him and cup his sweaty biceps, "His arms are massive, babe. Flex for us, you dumb hunk." The guy ordered, and Nikolay did. While he stood there flexing, Nikolay couldn't form a single straight thought, but he still could feel something was wrong. He felt the bald man's hands grabbing his thick biceps while the other man was taking pictures of them.

"Done," The man with the camera said.

The bald man then turned to look at Nikolay and smirked at him, "You're so hot, thank you for building such a hot body," He said, putting a hand inside Nikolay's pants and cupping his cock and balls, "Soon everything will be mine, say it, you dumb hunk."

"Soon everything will be yours, I'm a dumb hunk." Nikolay said, his voice deep and robotic.

"Where are you going to put him babe? Do you want to bring him to our hotel?" The other man asked.

"No, I can't wait that much, I need to wear him right now."

"There's an alley right here, you could do it there. I will stay here watching the entrance."

"Thank you babe." The bald man then turned to Nikolay, who was still double flexing, motionless like a mannequin. "Follow me to the alley, these biceps are gonna be mine."

"Follow you to the alley... these biceps are gonna be yours," Nikolay repeated mindlessly, following the strange man to the dark alley.

Standing at the entrance of the alley, the man's boyfriend scrolled through the photos he'd just taken of his boyfriend with the muscular stranger. Two years had passed since they first found each other, and every moment had been an exploration, an adventure. This trip to Russia was no different—a celebration of their anniversary and their shared desire to wear men. His boyfriend had always been drawn to the rugged allure of Russian men, and tonight was the fulfillment of that long-held fantasy.

He was used to his boyfriend wanting to wear every hot man they came across, and he loved him for it. He could hear grunts and moans coming from the alley—the grunts belonging to the muscular man, and the moans to his boyfriend

He couldn't help but smile. This was their way to love each other; there was no other way for two body stealers to show love.

He smiled when he saw the hot hunk walk out of the alley with a sexy grin. "So? How do I look?" The man asked, giving him a double flex.

"You look fantastic, babe," He responded in awe; he stepped closer and gave him a passionate kiss. He pulled back and caressed his boyfriend's new face. "We should get back to our hotel, I can't wait to test out your new Russian body in bed."

[matan4il]

Ahead of Eurovision 2024

I was listening to Eden Golan's song, Hurricane.

At first, it didn't seem to me like it stands out. I'm one of the people who prefers my Eurovision song less on the power ballad side of things, so this being in that genre...

But then I found myself haunted by the lyrics. By specific lines. Singing them to myself quietly, over and over again. I had to listen to the song again.

And it got to me, it really did, I haven't stopped listening to or singing it since, so I guess I needed to share a bit.

There's more than one hint that this is a song about mourning and survival. Lines like, "someone stole the moon tonight, took my light" can be interpreted in more than one way. But they become less ambiguous when combined with ones like, "holding on in this mysterious ride," when the mysterious ride we're all on is life itself. It makes it clearer that this isn't just a break up song. Then it becomes even more explicit with, "we shall pass, but love will never die."

The imagery in the videoclip is also telling, that ending when Eden is looking up, much like many do when talking to or thinking about a loved one that we have lost.

But the line that gets to me the most, the first one that took over my brain? "I'm still broken from this hurricane."

We all get what this song is about, in the wake of what happened here in October 2023, and since. And I am broken. So many Jews and Israelis are. As one survivor said (his words have haunted me first, then I heard them echoed in this song): "We are broken, but strong." That's exactly what the song is about, deeply feeling the pain and the tragedy, the loss, this impossible to accept grief, and still trying to find a way to live with it, to survive not just the horrors of a massacre, but the trauma that follows it as well.

The other line that affects me the most is directly related to this, "baby, promise me you'll hold me again." Because I have spent the last 5 months watching the news, seeing the funerals, and hearing people breaking down, as they say a variation of this to their loved ones, who are gone. Asking for a promise that can't be made, or fulfilled, and knowing that it can't, even as the request is being uttered. I hear their voices breaking around their words, whenever I listen to or sing this line.

The videoclip is also infused with imagery that's related to the massacre of over 360 people at the Nova music festival (and the kidnapping of 40 more from that scene), which is in a way very apt for music lovers. The images show dancers in what looks a lot like a nature party, just like Nova, and since the massacre happened when the music festival was meant to reach its peak, a long night of music and dancing climaxing around sunrise, that's exactly what we see, a move from the "moon light" throughout most of the videoclip, to the "sunrise" at the end.

But in the case of this "sunrise," Eden can smile, she can find comfort, she can sing a few words in Hebrew that reflect hope, about that little light that's left even when the moon's been stolen.

She's bringing the song to a beautiful, emotional closure.

Obviously, it can't be ignored that this is a re-write. The original song (which was called October Rain) was disqualified as "political."

You can read the original lyrics here. They're almost identical. I heard an interview with the song writers, who said they weren't even told what got their song disqualified, so they had to guess what the Eurovision Broadcasting Union had in mind, when they called an expression of our pain, and our strength at the face of that, "political."

I admit, I find it very hard to accept this disqualification. It's not like there isn't precendent for countries at the Eurovision expressing pain (including the kind originating from political circumstances) through their songs.

If you take the wildly popular Ukraine 2007 entry, the singer was quite obviously singing "Russia goodbye," with allusions to Russian interference in Ukrainian elections while wearing outfits reminiscent of Soviet uniforms. And that wasn't called political, because "Russia goodbye" was changed into gibberish that still sounds like it (and in recent performances, it was blatantly sang like that).

If you take the much talked about Croatia 2023 entry, it was about the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and also criticized Belarus' tyrant kissing Russia's tyrant's ass, by referencing the tractor that Lukashenko bought for Putin, while the band members played with military weapons and uniforms on stage. And that wasn't disqualified for being political.

If you take the Ukraine 2016 entry, that was explicitly singing about their pain over what the Russians did to the Tatar population in Crimea in 1944, with clear allusions to what Russians did when they invaded Ukraine's Crimean peninsula in 2014. And that wasn't called "political" either.

Even this year, we have the entry from The Netherlands being political, with both the lyrics and videoclip referencing the borderless Europe (which IS a political issue, as Brexit, if nothing else, had made clear). I've seen people pointing out online that the song isn't political, because the whole borderless Europe thing is a metaphor for the singer's grief for his father/parents. I have no problem with that reading, but let's acknowledge that there could have been many metaphors for that, and he chose a political one.

So why is Jewish pain treated differently? Why is our pain labeled "political," when the metaphors for it in the songs aren't that, there are no specific political mentions of people or organizations in the song (unlike the Georgia 2009 entry, which slipped Putin's name into the song's title) in either version, when there are no political statements being made in the song, there's just expressing our pain, and trying to find a way to cope with it?

This WAS the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust, and expecting Jews not to write about it, not to sing about it, not to try to process it through art... Our pain is not political. It's human. When Ukraine won in 2022 with a song that wasn't originally political, but became one, as it was adopted by Ukrainians suffering from a war that they did not choose, but had to fight, singing it wherever they were displaced (I remember the winners, Kalush Orchestra, coming to Israel to sing it for and with Ukrainian refugees who found shelter here), I thought it was quite obvious, even for people who don't like politics at Eurovision, why the song won, and why everyone overlooked the fact that it was only partly based on its qualities as a Eurovision song. I don't expect Israel to win, I very much expect that, even as Israelis embrace this song about our pain during a war, that we didn't choose, but have to fight, and while hundreds of thousands of us are still displaced, we will get a lot of hatred, instead of understanding and sympathy. But I still have to speak up. I still have to point out that treating Israeli or Jewish pain differently is wrong.

(as a footnote, I wanna get ahead of the usual, "Why is Israel allowed to participate in Eurovision to begin with? It's not in Europe!" comments, while I haven't come across the same ritual for certain other Eurovision participants, like North African Morocco, just-as-Asian-as-Israel Lebanon, transcontinental {despite some of these countries only being considered European culturally, while geographically speaking, they're fully Asian} Georgia, Russia, Cyprus, Turkey, Azerbaijan and Armenia, and the one that's a continent all on its own, Australia. They all have the right to participate, because they all belong to the European Broadcasting Union. Just like Israel)

[deangirlsstuff67]

Sorry... Not Sorry

Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Smoking, Male masterbation, Drug and Booze use, Fingering, P in V, Unprotected sex, Orgasm denial, Dirty talk, Language

Summary: You work with the boys to fulfill Butchers mission. Your family, like MM's, were killed by Soldier Boy. The only difference, you aren't mad about it. Your family was terrible and you constantly suffered at their hands. When you all find Soldier Boy, you offer to be his babysitter, only your attraction for the older supe might be too strong to fight.

Masterlist | Patreon

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He escaped you in Russia, only to track him to The Legend's house. You aren't a supe so for the most part you hang back when they go fight. Butcher always had a soft spot for you.

When it comes to Soldier Boy however, you willing volunteered to babysit the nuclear powered superhero. Everyone was reluctant at first. You're the youngest of the group, but you weren't backing down. Not this time.

Eventually Butcher agreed, which led you here. Some old man's house who wants to relive the glory days. Any other day I would pretend to listen, just not today. I am on a mission.

I walk towards the room The Legend informed me he would be in. Whatever I was expecting to find on the other side of the door, orgy, some chick giving him head, was not what I found.

His back was facing the door when I opened the handle. Wildly designed silk robe hiding his body from my lust filled eyes. Leg proped up on the bed frame. His whole body moving as he grunts from the pleasure his hand was providing his dick.

A very well endowed dick if I remember Russia correctly.

My body begins to heat, my underwear quickly becoming damp from my own private show, breathing coming in fast shallow pants.

Forgetting he had super hearing, Soldier Boy rips a surprised gasp from me when he speaks into the quiet room, "I can practically smell your sopping cunt from here Pretty Girl."

He doesn't turn or even stop his movements. Though you do notice he has slowed to a lazy rhythm. No longer chasing a quick orgasm.

Closing the door behind you you take one step at a time towards the powerful man infront of you. A man who I'm positive can spit me in half with one powerful thrusts into my heat.

Oh what a way to die.

By now you're standing right behind him fighting the urge to touch him. In a blink of an eye he swings around to come face to face with me.

We are in the middle of a staring contest. Him wondering my next move. Me wondering if I even have the nerve to follow through with anything.

Now or never I guess. This is one way to thank him for saving me. I know he hurt a lot of people and is the ultimate asshole, but to me he's a hero.

With a wave of bravery rushing through my veins, I step up and wrap my hand around his huge cock. My tiny hand barely touching as I begin to slide it up and down his shaft.

Soldier Boy throws his head back from the contact. Long, messy hair shining as te sun hits him just right. What I wouldn't give to run my fingers through it. I know I've got him when I hear a deep moan leave his kissable lips.

"Been a long time since a beauty such as yourself has touched me, Doll."

I still can't speak. His husky voice drips of honey when he's aroused, eye's that were once shining green are now hooded and black with lust. The man's beautiful on any given day, but when he's in a stage of bliss, he's breathtaking.

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Strong, long, thick fingers move rapidly inside me as Soldier Boy brings me to the edge again. Pistoling straight into my g spot repeatedly.

"You're stunning when you're fucked out and frustrated, Doll." He removes his fingers from my soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. My pussy clenching around nothing.

"Mmm... taste sweet." Rolling on top of his naked body I rub my wet center up his length while sinking my tongue into his mouth. Stunned for a moment from surprise before he begins to kiss me back... hard.

Breaking away I lift my body and grab his leaking cock before impaling myself on his perfect dick.

I was right, he's going to split me in half. It burns as he stretches me to my limit. Never had a cock this good. I can feel every vein as I slipped farther down his shaft.

Bottoming out I stay still waiting for my body to adjust. Feeling my velvet walls flutter around him as they fight to accept his size. He shifts slightly sending electricity shooting through my body, another wave of arousal soaks his dick.

"Soldier Boy..."

Laughing he leans up, wrapping a strong arm protectively around my waist as he kisses me sweetly. "Sweetheart I'm balls deep in your sopping cunt right now, pretty sure you can call me Ben." Then he thrusts into me, hitting my cervix.

"Ben..." is all I can moan as he takes control of my body.

"That’s my Pretty Girl. Scream it baby, my names never sounded so sweet before."

His pace quickens sending me into my first orgasm. Clenching him so tight I'm amazed he can still move as he fucks me through it. "Squeezing my cock so good."

Ben watches where our bodies are join, "this pussy is drooling Doll. Making such a pretty mess of my dick." I tighten around him, "oh fuck yes..."

"Got one more in there for me baby girl." It wasn't a question. He brings his rough hands to my bundle of nerves and starts to vigorously rub me there.

My orgasm build fast and hard. Just as I'm think I'm about to be thrown over the edge a new sensation comes over me, "shit... Ben you have to st.. stop. I.. I think I'm go.. going to pee."

He doesn't listen. If anything the statement makes him feral as he double downs his efforts. Then it happens. My body let's go, vision goes white as I scream his name as loud as I can before slumping into his chest.

What feels like hours goes by, but I'm sure it's minutes, before I feel someone gently finger my pussy. Whimpering I hear a dark chuckle beside me.

"That was fucking hot Doll." Ben holds me to his chest as he lazily plays with my pussy and our mess, "I'm far from done with you, sleep for now."

"You should have known better than to try and tease me. Best damn pussy I've had... just might have to keep you now." He gently bites my ear lope.

Through my blessed out haze I weakly smile before whispering, "Sorry... not sorry."

I fall asleep in his warm embrace with his laughter as my lullaby and his fingers bringing small waves of pleasure every once in a while.

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Taglist:

@syrma-sensei

[klett161]

Tankies aren't Comrades

For context: I recently migrated to Tumblr and Im used to the State of Reddit where of course there where Tankie subs but it wasnt to hard too acually avoid them.

But Holy Fucking Fuck! The State of leftists Tags on this site is so fucking bad. Like you cant browse the Anticapitalist, communist or socialist Tags without seeing people praising the Soviets or China or just blatantly denying Genocides. Of course I am of the opinion that the left would be stronger If it wouldnt constantly start Infights over nothing. BUT defending Authoritarian regimes, denying Genocide, defending Imperialism(as long as it isnt USA), Warcrimes and the Overall supression of the working Class are under no circumstances part of leftist Values and we dont need these people to stand strong against the System.

If you still consider fighting side by side with these people I recommand you take a look at what happend to teh CNT-FAI during the Spanish civil war. Or the Anrchist/libertarian socialists that fought in the Russian Revolution. These people will stab you in the back or put you in to a Camp first chance they get.

If you are part of the LGBTQ community or Religious minority I recommand looking what is currently happenig to the Uyghurs in China or Russias war on the LGBTQ community.

Luckily most of these people are Keyboard warriors and dont engage with the real world.

But under any circumstances, TANKIES ARE NOT YOUR COMRADES!

[daughterofcain-67]

𝙾𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 (𝚙𝚝 2)

(Soldier Boy x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after his release and escape from Russia, Ben finds himself back in the states but it’s not the same place he’s known before. nonetheless he is determined to get his revenge on Payback for setting him up, and perhaps he’ll finally reunite with you after all these years. He can’t help but wonder… did you wait for him the whole time he was gone?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: minor spoilers to season three, Ben’s point of view when he saw The Legend when he returned to the states. no major spoilers.

Russia…

God what Ben would give to get the Hell out of this country.

Yes, he was conscious but barely because of the fumes that were held up to his face. He lost track of so much time and he didn’t even know what day it was anymore. Let alone what year.

Ben didn’t feel strong enough because of these blasted fumes, he couldn’t even break out of a stupid metal box. He felt the worst feeling a man could feel when he was tortured and experimented on. He felt helpless, humiliated, betrayed by his own teammates.

Did they really hate him that much? Sure he was a bit hard on them, gave them a few beatings here and there to knock some sense into them. But was it really enough to try and get him killed?

This whole time his hope was that Crimson Countess would come and find him. After all, he hadn’t broken up with her yet and he thought she still loved him. After all, with you being retired, there was no way Vought would ever tell you what part of Nicaragua he was stationed, or even what his own team did behind his back.

You were right though, and he wished now that he would have listened to you.

Outside of his prison, he swore he was able to hear some voices. Probably those damned Russians coming to pull him out for more experiments. Maybe that could be his chance if they didn’t sedate him this time.

The next thing he knew, he could hear some sort of alarm going off and he was still motionless. It was like he was in some sort of coma and he hated that he could hear a lot of what was happening, but he couldn’t do anything about it. It was his own personal Hell.

Then everything went quiet after the gunfire. He wondered what the hell must’ve happened, what went wrong?

Ben didn’t believe in miracles, but the next thing he knew he could here someone stepping up to this damned metal box. It had to be some supe because no human could take off the front of this damned thing so easily. Was it Vought?

If it was Vought, there was no way in Hell he would ever go back there. Not after the shit they did to him.

As the fumes inside of the vault finally seemed to dissipate, he felt like some kind of fog was finally being lifted. Ben slowly tilted his head to see if he could actually move and to his surprise… he could. He slowly opened his eyes, and at first his vision was a little blurry, even he had to admit that. Who knew how long they had been closed since he hadn’t used them after all.

Once the fog was lifted for him, however, he looked down at his restraints and all it took was a bit of a flex to tear them off. Must’ve been old material by now. Ben took the IV’s out of his arm and whatever sticker things were on his chest and he tossed them to the side. He took off the mask that was blowing the fumes into his system and he felt more alert after that.

He lifted his arms out and gripped onto the outside of the vault to steady himself as he prepared to use his legs again for the first time. One step forward, then another, then he was out of the vault.

He lifted his gaze, realizing that his vision was clearing up nicely, only to notice a group of people were standing in front of him looking stunned. One of them looked like he was about to shit himself.

As he walked further into the room, he realized he had this new sort of energy rushing through him. Something that was much more than just some kind of adrenaline rush. This was different, new, something that had to be the result of whatever radiation the Russians filled him up with to see what could kill him.

He looked down and closed his eyes, concentrating to see exactly what would happen if he focused. Then he started feeling something from within his chest. It felt like some sort of heartburn, but it wasn’t really painful like one.

Nonetheless, the feeling was intense and his chest began to glow and as he tried to release the power, this energy blast escaped from him and it destroyed the back wall that was blocking his way.

When he looked up and saw the damage he had done, he had to admit it was a little surprising that he could do this sort of thing now. Maybe that was the only thing he could thank the Russians for. Not that they’d get his thanks after the shit they put him through to get to this point.

Ben looked forward, not really giving much of a damn to get to know the people that released him, and he walked out of the room and into the hall.

Eventually, he found some guy and knocked him out so he could take his clothes. After all, there wasn’t much of a reason to have your junk out unless he was at herogasm. Once he was dressed, he felt something fall from the pocket of the pants he was putting on.

When he looked down, he saw some rectangular screen. Ben lifted a brow as he bent over and picked it up just to see that it lit up. He squinted a little before he blinked again and saw some picture on the screen. There was even the date and time on this thing.

“What the fuck?”

Well he didn’t exactly expect to live past the turn of the millennium. The 2000’s? Well, according to the lit up brick it was the 2020’s.

That was more time than he expected he lost while he was there. He wondered if you had still waited for him all this time or if you had forgotten about him after a few years of him being gone.

You…

He had to get back to you, Everything in Ben was screaming at him to make it back to the states to get back to you somehow. He wondered if you were even still alive or if you’d be alive and.. well a bit older now with how much time has flown by.

Then he remembered the one thing he promised himself that he would do. He never broke things off with Countess. Well, after what she and the rest of his team did, he was pretty sure it was already over but Ben? Well, Ben wanted to make sure things were more than official. Make her and the rest of his old team pay for the time he’s wasted being here when he could have spent the last several decades being with you.

1984…

After he shut the door behind your apartment, he looked at his team. All of them looked frustrated with him for taking so long. Well, with the exception of Black Noir since his mask was covered.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re looking at? Do you want me to tell you how many damn times I’ve had to wait on all of you when we have to go on a mission? Head out to the car before I crack your fucking skulls open.” He told them and they all started going out to the car so they could get to the headquarters.

Ben looked back at your door with a certain aching in his chest.

He knew you tended to have some sort of intuition about some missions. He wondered since you were clearly worried about him, if he would have anything to be genuinely worried about, or if you were just trying to find an excuse to make him stay.

He hoped that you knew that if he could stay with you, than he would have. But this was Ben’s job, and he didn’t have that much of a choice.

Once Ben made it to the car that took him into that plane so they could go out of the country, his mind started wandering off to you. He wondered if you liked the little gift he gave you. He wasn’t exactly huge on sentimental shit, but you meant something to him and he wanted you to have something to remember him by just in case your little intuition was right and he did have something to worry about.

Eventually, Ben made it to an airport and snuck his way into a cargo plane. It was an easy enough way to not get caught since it seemed entirely too complicated to sneak in the actual airport. Nobody would believe he was Soldier Boy, and he highly doubted people would believe it anyway since it’s been so long.

Anyway, once he got onto the cargo plane, he did what he could to make himself at least semi-comfortable since he had a feeling this would be a long flight.

The one thing he was looking forward to, though, was seeing your smiling face again after so many years.

He was finally coming home.

A few days had gone by and you knew Butcher and his little team must’ve made it to Russia by now. Well actually, they may have even arrived back in the states if they’ve successfully found what they were looking for. You just hoped they would find the answers so they could end Homelander. The world deserved to know the truth about their beloved heroes and their many imperfections.

On the other hand, you had a feeling that such a weapon couldn’t actually exist. It was just some kind of folklore at this point, a legend that you genuinely thought to be myth. If that were the case, though, you wondered how they would end up defeating Homelander.

Then again, if what you heard was correct and that group that came to visit you was really involved in the death of Translucent, you were sure they would find an alternative way of taking care of Homelander. They seemed like a smart enough group to improvise something if things weren’t going to go their way.

For the time being, you were at the store, just getting some groceries you needed at the house. It gave you an excuse to get out and about somehow without drawing much attention. Plus you needed food before you got hangry.

While you were grabbing some ingredients you were planning for some meals that week, you could hear a few other shoppers talking about the news and when you looked over at one of them, they were pointing at a television screen.

You glanced up at the tv at one of the corners in the store, your eyes widened when you saw the reports of a building that experienced some sort of explosion. It wasn’t released to the public how many people suffered or died because of what happened, but you knew the numbers would be released eventually.

“Do you think it’s another Super Terrorist?” One person asked their friend.

“They’re called Super Villains. Didn’t you hear Homelander? That’s the better term, obviously.”

You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes at the conversation. Just because some famous guy says one thing sounds better shouldn’t mean the whole world has to stand by it. People were allowed to have their own opinions and they should learn to think for themselves rather than look to supes for political accuracy.

Your eyes widened when you saw the footage released on the news. Some terrorist used some sort of energy blast to destroy that building. How many people did that person kill?

There were times you couldn’t believe the kind of monsters that were out there today. And you thought Hitler was bad, having lived through that. Why were people so insane? You couldn’t believe what this world was coming to and you couldn’t help but feel out of place sometimes.

Shaking your head, you went back to minding your own business as you tried to think of what you should eat for dinner that night and what ingredients you needed. Some Italian dish came to mind so you picked up some pasta, Alfredo sauce, and some seasonings you needed. Then you went to the meats, you grabbed some chicken and you picked up some shrimp and garlic bread from the frozen aisle.

After that, you went to the wine area and tried to think of what sort of wine you were in the mood for that evening.

Gosh, you could hear Ben’s voice in your head making fun of you for being a wine drinker after all the times you both would have some beers together, or maybe the harder stuff after a long mission he had. Although it’s not like either of you could get drunk unless you had a full bottle or two for the each of you.

You smiled to yourself as you remembered some of the drinking games you two would come up with when you would watch old voices. You knew Ben hated watching romance movies but one time your forced him to watch Gone with the Wind with you, and he made up the bright idea of making a drinking game out of it. Anytime Scarlett would flirt with, kiss, or even hug Ashley it was one drink. That was just an example of the nonsense he’d come up with in the movie.

In the end, you decided to pick up some Franciacorta, just some sparkling wine for your supper that evening. Maybe you would even watch Gone with the Wind again, without playing Ben’s little drinking game.

After finding everything you needed, you went to the register and bought everything. You walked out of the store you grabbed everything you needed before you started making your way home.

As you walked out with your bags in hand, you started walking to your car when something caught your attention through your peripheral vision. You glanced over and you saw a man in what looked like a grey runners outfit of sorts with a red stripe on his jacket. He had long hair, a very messy beard that was in desperate need of a trim. But he had these eyes that seemed so familiar, eyes that you hadn’t seen in decades.

“It couldn’t be…” You whispered and when you took a step forward, a large bus with some poster for The Seven drove by and once it passed, the mystery man disappeared.

“Ben…”

It couldn’t be true. He was dead. You hadn’t seen him in decades, everyone in Vought said he was dead. The whole world knew he was gone. How was he still alive. That had to be him right?

What if you were mistaken and it was just some kind of look alike? What if it was just some sort of freak coincidence? Surely you were just seeing things because of those people that swung by your house a few days ago.

You went to your car and popped open the trunk so you could set your groceries down. Afterwards, you went into the car and started to drive home, completely unable to get that man’s face out of your mind.

The man’s face, even if it was covered by the unruly facial hair, you knew deep down that was your Ben. But how did he get back into the states if he was out of the country for so many years?

“You’re imagining things. It couldn’t have been him.” You reminded yourself.

If it were really your Ben, he would have contacted you a long time ago if he were still alive. So you had to be reasonable about this. Maybe if you just go on about your business, you would be able to move on and forget you ever saw that stranger. What you saw couldn’t have been a reality.

After a while you had arrived home and you grabbed the groceries from the trunk of the car. The trip from the car to your front door was a short one but you noticed an envelope taped to your door.

You lifted a brow and you shifted the bags from one hand to the other, you were just glad you didn’t have that many bags after all. Taking the letter from your front door, you opening it to enter your home. You shut the door behind you with your heel before entering the kitchen so you could set everything down on the counter. Once your hands were finally free you opened up the envelope to see what was inside.

When you pulled out what was inside, your eyes widened.

It was a picture, a close up, of the man you used to know. He was in the last uniform he ever wore before his out of the country trip. He had his mask off and he was already there in Nicaragua with his team. It was a photo that was never released to the public.

You looked at the back of the photo to see if there was a name, note or anything on it but it was blank. What you found was simply a heart and the date the photo was taken. It was such an old photo and you could tell that Ben wrote the date with the heart a long time ago. So it couldn’t have been recent, unfortunately.

You wished you knew who had this photo for so long. Why did they keep it? Was it one of his teammates?

You wondered if Countess had something to do with it. She never did like you for whatever reason. You didn’t really care to know why though.

When you were about to set the envelope down somewhere, you noticed a little notecard fell out. Your tilted your head a little before you bent down and picked it up and read the notecard. The handwriting was clearly feminine but you proceeded to read.

Hi Miss Y/N,

My name is Annie and I’m friends with Hughie. I’ve found this picture of Soldier Boy somewhere in the files in Vought and thought you might like to have it.

Best regards,

Starlight.

That was oddly sweet of her to give you a picture of Ben. Hughie telling a member of The Seven where you lived felt a little unsettling though. You weren’t sure if you could necessarily trust it, but none of them have exactly given you a reason not to trust them just yet.

The best you could do at the moment was just set the note to the side and went to your little desk in your office. You realized you never put your chest back where it belonged that had all of your letters to Ben.

The events of today were definitely worth writing about. Maybe one quick little letter before dinner couldn’t hurt anything, could it?

When you grabbed your writing paper and a pen, you began your letter which was practically a run down of everything that’s happened within the last couple of hours.

Ben,

You wouldn’t believe what happened today. Supe Terrorists are active and I think I’m hallucinating…

Ben ended up visiting with The Legend after his little mishap with that building after his arrival.

Honestly he couldn’t explain what happened. He was still getting used to his new abilities, sure, but he wasn’t even trying to use them when he killed all of those people. The news released the numbers and he found out he killed 19 people.

“So how did you do it?” Ben’s old friend asked while Ben stood in the bathroom looking at himself in the mirror.

“Do what?” He questioned as he looked at his hair and beard. You’d have his head if you saw him walking around like this. You hated if he didn’t trim his beard, now he understood why.

“You got a razor or a trimmer anywhere?”

“Yeah, second drawer on your left. And you know what I meant. How the Hell did you fake your own death?”

Ben rolled his eyes as he pulled out the drawer to look for the razor. What he saw wasn’t a single blade like he was used to, but it looked like it had five blades.

“Who the fuck needs five blades to do the job of one blade?” Ben asked as he held up the razor and the old man just shrugged.

“Just keeping up with the times, Ben. Now are you gonna answer the question or not?”

“Let’s just boil it down to I got lucky, alright?” Ben finally answered before he looked at the man through the mirror.

“Although… I would like some info on Countess. She still suckin’ in air?”

“Yeah, as far as I know. Although, I’m getting the feeling your little reunion won’t blow over too well, will it?”

Ben just let out a hum, “We’ll see how it goes for her. Do you happen to know what went down in Nicaragua?”

“What do you mean? Everyone said you were killed and whatever supposedly killed you was in Russia.” Legend commented as he stood there, somewhat amused while watching Soldier Boy use a different razor than what he was used to.

“So you don’t know everything that went down?”

“Am I supposed to know what went down?”

Ben sighed. Honestly he wasn’t sure if Legend was telling the truth on this one or not but he did trust him enough to not kill him. No, he just wanted his revenge on his former teammates, “The team set me up. Countess, Noir, Gunpowder, all of them.”

“Shit, Man.”

“They tried to get me killed then they sent me to Russia. I’m just lucky I found my way back.” Ben said and he put the razor down before he picked up some scissors to start trimming his hair.

“So that’s why you’re off to see Countess, huh? Ask her who exactly was behind it and all?”

“Well duh. I just wonder if it was a Vought thing or if it was just the crew wanting me dead.”

“Good luck with all that. You’ve never really had that many problems getting what you wanted out of them, excluding the end of course.”

Then he remembered the woman he saw not long after he blew the building. At first he could have sworn it was you, but he wondered if it was just some sort of relative of yours that looked almost exactly like you. Ben just had to know for sure if it was you or not.

“Have you heard about Quake? Is she still around?” He questioned while he focused on his trim.

“Quake? Last I heard she was alive and kicking. No one’s heard from her in decades though since her retirement. You know how she was though. If she wasn’t really into the fame Payback brought you and your old team, she’s not going to want the public to know where she is or what she’s been up to.” Legend replied.

Ben couldn’t help but to smile a little to himself. You had your little quirks and he thought it was cute that you never cared much about the fame of everything. He thought it was sweet in your own little way that you wanted him all to yourself and wanted him to break up with Crimson Countess before you even slept with him.

“You know, a lot of people speculated after your death if you two had a thing for each other.” Legend said just as Ben finished up trimming his hair and he brushed the remnants off his shoulders.

“So is that why you’re asking about her? You planning on seeing her too?” Ben looked over when he heard the question.

“I need to know who my allies are is all. Clearly Payback doesn’t have my trust anymore.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Come on, I’ve been gone decades and you’re wondering if I’ve got the hots for Quake? She’s probably moved on by now.” He rolled his eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s lied to Legend, or withheld information.

“Uh huh. Right… well she never ‘moved on’ as you say. She doesn’t have any kids or grandchildren. There’s no record of her getting married either.”

Those words made Ben’s heart swell. You actually waited this whole time? He could hardly believe something like that. Most people would have moved on.

“Right… well… Do you know where Countess lives? I’d better be off before Vought IDs me in the video the news released this morning.” Ben cleared his throat

Legend sighed a little and he walked over to his desk where he had a sheet of paper. He wrote down the supe’s address before handing the sheet over to Ben.

“Watch your back out there, Soldier Boy. Things aren’t exactly the same as how they were when you were still presumed alive. Shit’s changed and they have a lot of security cameras. Vought’s gonna have access to those.” Legend warned.

“Yeah… you’re telling me. Never in my life have I felt out of place. It’s fucking weird.” He said and he took the paper from his friend, shoving it into a pocket.

“Wish me luck.”

Hi everyone!! Thank you all so much for your support and comments in the first part! I am so excited to see where this story will go and I hope all of you enjoy~

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @fanfic-n-tabulous @chriszgirl92 @hobby27 @nancymcl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @capricxnt @k-slla @angelbabyyy99 @david-tennant-obsessed-blog

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 13

An: Back to angst. Pt 14 will be up this weekend, it’s long (and spicy).

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 3030

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

Ghost has disappeared.

I woke up alone over an hour ago and haven’t seen any sign of him since. His weapons and gear are gone. There’s no note and as I stare out the window searching for any movement, the forest remains as still as ever.

However, the helicopter is still here. That means he hasn’t left. Maybe he went into the woods for something. Maybe more buildings are hiding in the trees. There’s one small shed connected to the east side of the cabin where the veranda ends, but I doubt he’s in there. It’s likely just firewood.

I glance at the nonexistent pile beside the wood stove. The fire has burned down to flickering embers, if I don’t add more fuel, it’ll burn out.

Maybe he was out getting more wood when someone hit him over the head and then dragged him away.

The thought pops into my head but even I have a hard time believing it. The attackers wouldn’t live to see another day.

I glance at the stove again. I don’t know how to start a fire, so letting this one burn out isn’t an option. I slip on my boots and grab a pair of leather gloves sitting where the wood pile should be. Outside there’s a light breeze, but it’s nothing compared to the cold in Russia.

A veranda wraps around the front of the cabin looking out across the field where the helicopter sits and into the surrounding forest. A built-in swing hangs at one end and an old straw broom lays knocked over near the railing. Several empty flower pots sit on each side of the steps and beside one, is an overturned metal bin. Three steps lead down to the snow-covered ground. Several days ago it would’ve been warm enough for the snow to melt before it refroze into the icy mess it is now.

“Shit!” as soon as my foot makes contact, I slip, just barely catching myself. Close call.

I was right. The shed around the side is stocked full of wood. I step inside the doors so I can pile the logs in my arms. My hand wraps around a log in the middle of the pile. As I pull an avalanche of split pieces tumbles to the ground. A coat of dust covers everything. My eyes water from the dust and debris floating in the air.

“Remind me who gave you permission to leave the cabin?” I jump as Ghost’s gruff voice echoes behind me. He sounds unimpressed. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

I turn around to see him in full gear, standing in the snow with crossed arms. I feel like a child being told off. I feel like I’m being patronized.

“I’m just grabbing wood,” I don’t try and hide the annoyance in my voice. I can already tell the man from last night is gone.

“That’s not what I asked,” he says bluntly.

“Fine,” I state. “I did.”

“You don’t have that authority,” he leans into the frame of the woodshed, blocking me in. Filtered sunlight peers around his shoulders.

“The fire was dying.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do,” I push past him with an armful of wood but as soon as my foot hits a patch of ice, I lose all control. My feet fly up from beneath me. The pieces of wood are launched from my flailing arms and shock knocks the breath from my lungs. There’s that terrible sinking feeling in my stomach as I prepare to collide with the ground.

Strong arms wrap around my waist and heave me upward. I’m pressed into Ghost’s chest as he looks down at me, shaking his head ever so slightly. The black paint he always has around his eyes is gone. Mustn’t have brought any extra with him. But now I see the bags under his eyes. He looks tired. Ready to crash tired. I wonder if he slept at all last night.

His arms slip away as he straightens his posture. “Get back inside,” it’s a short order without room to bargain.

I nod in agreeance but pick up the pieces of wood along the way. I’m not letting that fire burn out.

The sound of metal skidding across the wood deck rings in my ears as Ghost shoves the metal bin out of the way with his boot. Something’s made him irritable.

Inside, I don’t wait for him to start lecturing me. I head straight to the fire and start adding pieces of bark from the logs to the embers. Ghost stomps the snow off his boots at the entrance. He closes the door but doesn’t turn the deadbolt. His demanding eyes follow my actions while I choose to ignore his presence. The dust sticks to my dirty hair. I feel gross after the events of the last several days. Like the blood of all those dead men is building under my fingernails. I pick at the skin around my cuticles. It’s only time before they bleed again.

I grab the small axe leaning against the wall by the stove and attempt to split one of the smaller pieces. I hear the sound of steel-toed boots approaching behind me and focus on the task at hand. Somehow, I successfully split the small piece without missing or hurting myself. I add the kindling to the smouldering bark and watch as a tiny flame begins to lick at the wood.

I reach for another piece, but before I can pull it off the ground, his boot steps on it, stopping me dead in my tracks. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I turn around to crane my neck and peer up at Ghost standing over me.

“What?”

“Listen.”

I sit back on my knees to get a better look at Ghost as his foot remains on the piece of wood. His hands hang loosely at his sides, ready to reach for his weapon. He taps his right index finger against his thigh.

“I’m all yours,” I notice the tapping falters at my words.

“Once the task force has recovered after the attack, they’re moving to the Ludza base. We’ll meet them there when it’s cleared,” Ghost doesn’t spare any details, but I have to assume he was talking to Price. Maybe with the radio in the helicopter.

“Are there any updates?” I ask.

“On what?” he responds. Ghost’s choice of words allude to there being multiple updates, all of which are likely classified.

“Was my father there?” I ignore all my other questions to ask the one I care about the most. I don’t know how much longer he’ll entertain me.

“His body wasn’t found,” so maybe he was and escaped? Or maybe he didn’t go at all. Maybe the risk was too high. A thought flickers in my head. I push it away so it doesn’t metastasize into something horrible. What if he simply doesn’t care?

No. That’s impossible. He wouldn’t go through all this effort just to not show up. He loves me. He’d do anything for me.

I clear my throat. “When do we leave.”

“Tomorrow. 0600,” Ghost curiously tilts his head, waiting for more questions, but they never come. I’m sure part of him wants to know how loyal I am to my father. Sure, I alerted them of the attack, but that doesn’t mean I’m in the clear. My intentions appear more cloudy than ever. Whose side am I on? Why would I help them over my own family? Why would I wait so long to tell them about the attack?

Truth is, I don’t know. Seeing anyone be killed feels wrong. No matter their crimes. Why should I be the one to choose? But even indecision has consequences.

He heads for the door without another comment. My hand clenches around the chopped log. He’s avoiding me.

“Is there any way I could have a bath or shower out here?” I change the topic. I need to scrub myself clean from the dirt of our actions. The showers at the base are filled with mud. Their sinks with blood.

Ghost feigns looking around the cabin for a washroom. My lip purses with irritation.

“Sure, knock yourself out,” He slams the door behind him.

Asshole.

I throw more logs onto the fire. Knock yourself out. Sure. Knock yourself out. I split another piece of wood with the axe. Sure. My stubby nails press hard into my palm.

I raid the cabinets: basic survival gear and a whole lot of MREs. There are however several pots and pans and a kettle. We don’t have running water, but there is snow I can melt over the stove.

I need a tub.

My eyes shift outside to the veranda. Sitting there is the metal bin Ghost kicked only moments ago. That’ll do.

It’s heavy, but not unmovable. It looks like a tiny watering trough used for horses. I cross my fingers that it doesn’t leak.

After a couple hours spent melting and boiling snow, several more trips to the woodshed, and only one fall on the ice. I’ve made myself a lukewarm bath. It’s better than nothing. I entirely expected Ghost to yell at me for being outside again, but I haven’t seen him in hours. He truly is avoiding me.

Showering on the base was uncomfortable. The water was cold. Maximum time limit was five minutes. And I had to be supervised. Soap was nice enough to keep his back to me the whole time, but he was still ordered to be there. I was just glad it was him and not someone with worse intentions. I wish he was here now. Things are less awkward when he’s around.

Sitting in the tub, I have more time to myself than I’ve had in weeks. It’s small, so I have to keep my legs tightly bent at my knees to fit, but the rim is tall, ending at my shoulders. I filled it right full. The lye soap bar glides between my fingers as I softly run it along my skin and in my hair.

I feel sore everywhere. From the bed. From standing watching Ghost torture men all day. From the lasting marks of the men I’ve encountered.

I look down at the bruises now: most of them have begun to fade, with the exception of the fresh fingerprints wrapped around my upper arm from Ghost. The dark blues on my thighs have started to yellow with only a little remaining purple. My arms are bare, but my sides and back are the worst. The one time I was pushed onto a stair railing. That one’s the worst. The ugly mark above my hip looks like it should hurt more than it does.

I wrap my fingers around the marks Ghost left. Where did the gentle man from last night go? Was he real? Or is he just as evasive as campfire ghost stories? The man with the skull mask.

It’s too late if you see him, you’re already dead.

I see the looks he gets from the other soldiers. From his teammates. Ghost’s reputation precedes itself. They respect him. Of course, they do. But there’s more to their eyes. There’s fear.

If they’re scared, without a doubt I should be too. I know I should be. But a nagging part of me is more curious than anything. And a large part of me is still angry. Angry that he drug me into this mess. Angry that he doesn’t care how his teammates treat me. That he let these things happen. That they were planned.

If I was smart, I’d try and get away. I’ve thought about it. God, I’ve thought about it more than anything. But also, I want him to pull me close. There’s a burning desire to see the man everyone is so scared of. I want to feel him beneath my fingertips. I want him to leave more marks. To find his place in the heat of my flesh.

I press down on the marks until they throb under my hands.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost draws in a sharp breath as he opens the door. Without even fully stepping into the cabin, he’s already turning to leave. His knuckles are white from gripping the knob tight and he keeps his eyes averted to the ground. Behind him, I see the sun starting to set. I didn’t realize it’s that late already.

“It’s fine,” I call out to him. Ghost pauses, reluctantly finding my eyes. There’s a dark intensity to them as they fight the urge to wander. His chest deeply expands as he adjusts his breathing. “Same thing as the supervised showers, right?” But it doesn’t feel the same as having Soap guard the doors.

I don’t get a verbal response, but he does step inside the cabin. Ghost heads to the table and starts to strip from his gear, refusing to look in my direction. The rifle thuds against the wood when he sets it down. I hear a sigh of relief as his vest slides off.

“Bloody fucking hot in here,” he grumbles.

“I was using the stove all afternoon,”

Again, he doesn’t respond. I hoped he wouldn’t be so uptight when he returned, but his posture says otherwise. His back is tight and his hands clench at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. He walks over to the futon, then turns for the kitchen like he’s looking for the spot furthest away from me. Then he paces back over to the table and starts disassembling his rifle.

“What were you doing out there all day?” I ask, peering over the tub. He hunches over in the chair as his knees brush against the underside of the table. Ghost’s eyes are intently trained on the task at hand. He gently handles the various pieces as he lays them out to be cleaned. My eyes follow the veins in his forearms as they flex with each twist.

“It’s classified,” he mumbles, keeping his head down as he starts to clean the barrel. Figured.

I force my head under the surface one last time. The water has long lost its warmth. The air in the room is miles cozier, but I wasn’t about to abandon all my hard work so soon. Ghost’s presence ruins my peace.

“Don’t look,” I say to him as I reach for the towel draped across the wood. I keep my eyes on Ghost who keeps his eyes on his gun.

I shimmy my underwear on under the towel then reach for my bra and hastily fumble with the clasps. I feel a small sense of relief after putting the two on. I quickly step into my pants and then finally let the towel drop as I’m doing up the buttons. As I turn and bend over to grab my shirt, I feel a dark set of eyes wander over my uncovered skin.

“Is that from my men?” there’s a hollowness to Ghost’s deep voice that echos off the walls and ripples the water in the tub. I already know which mark he’s talking about.

“I told you not to look,” I mutter through my teeth. He doesn’t get to start this now.

“Y/n,” the chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. Heavy boots thud against the floor as they slowly approach from behind.

“Don’t act so surprised,” I tug the long sleeve shirt over my head and cover the bruises. “You said this was all a part of the plan. That you planned this.”

“I didn’t know-” he starts, but I cut him off. He has to be fucking kidding me.

“I told you!” My voice raises as I whip around to face him.  “I literally told you!”

“Y/n, that was never part of my plan, I wouldn-”

“No! You don’t get to pull that on me.” Something in me snaps. “What? Do you need to see every damn bruise to believe me? You think I’d lie about this? Fine.” I pull up the back of my shirt. “That one, across my spine, is from when one of your men kicked in my knees while I was trying to walk drugged and blindfolded. So is this one,” I hike my shirt up higher.

“This one,” I turn so he can see the ugly bruise on my side, the one that originally caught his attention. “Is when I was pushed into a metal stair rail by your men. That was almost three weeks ago, Simon. This is nothing compared to what it was before. So, yeah, They’re from your men.”

I drop the back of my shirt back down and then reach for the neckline. I pull it over my shoulder until you can see the marks he stained my body with yesterday.

“But not these ones,” my voice turns sullen. His eyes are glued to my skin. My cheeks are burning and my hands shake. The air in the room is thick and smokey. I reach for Ghost’s hand and surprisingly he doesn’t pull away when I grab onto him. I wrap his fingers around my upper arm, overtop of the dark bruises that match him perfectly. “That’s all you, Simon. Their actions hurt no more than yours.”

Something indescribable flickers across Simon’s face. In the same instance, he tears himself away from me. As he takes a step back I notice a new emotion behind the mask: something adjacent to fear.

He turns on his heels with conflict on his mind, storming out of the cabin. Something has changed. I’ve cracked some part of himself buried deep within. My words struck a bone within Ghost – no, within Simon – and it rattled him deep enough to abandon all of his weapons. It’s an action that is completely out of his character. That alone should worry me.

They all lay neatly on the table just as he left them moments ago. Sure, the rifle is disassembled and otherwise useless to me, but the handle of the handgun is pointed in my direction. I feel my fingers twitch at my side.

PT14:

https://at.tumblr.com/sunonyoreface/he-knows-simon-ghost-riley-pt-14/isleu0k3o30h 

[kksverse]

Huddled

A/N: Hi! I am new to Tumblr and am not really sure how to set up the posts/requests/masterlists, but if you guys enjoy this and want more just comment or message me! Not sure if I like it or not so enjoy!

I also have it posted on AO3 here !

masterlist

Summary:

 When a mission in rural Russia goes south, the team is forced to find shelter to hide from the brutal Russian winter. 

Or 

Getting sandwiched by 2 big men is no big deal until its König and Ghost

Pairing: Ghost/OFC/Köing

Word Count: 3268

Calina had always had a strong affinity to the moon and everything that surrounds it. She believed that it was because her mother named her after the moon. She would spend nights in the Russian wilderness, a place in which she called home, bathing in the moonlight until eventually her father would find her asleep outside at dusk, cursing her for forgetting her coat and coaxing her into the warmth of her home. 

Nights where the moon was at its fullest were Calina’s favorite. That's why when she woke up to her head pounding and her ears ringing, she felt nothing but peace. 

The light of the full moon cast down on her face as she took in her surroundings and for the first time since she gained consciousness, felt her body. 

Suddenly, she felt the coldness of the snow nipping at her back through her clothes. Pain radiating from every part of her body and her head felt too heavy to pick up from the snow. She felt like screaming, crying, and throwing up all at once. 

Because worst of all she remembered. Remembered everything. 

Her dad. The militia. The raid. The explosion. 

Anger and grief fueled her body as she rose from the ground. Fire burned all around her as the place that held her captive for the past two years burned to the ground along with her captors inside. 

For the first time in two years she was outside and had no idea where she was. She didn’t even know if she was still in Russia. 

Suddenly a twig snapped behind her, gasping as she turned around with her fists formed in some protective stance. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest as she took in the masked giant in front of her donned in military attire. She wasn’t entirely sure that her punch would even tickle the man but she continued to keep them in front of her. 

When König was first informed of the rescue mission in the middle of nowhere during the nastiest winter Russia has seen in 20 years he thought nothing of it. For a man of his size nothing seems to faze him. However, when the chopper dropped them off within the perimeter the intensity of the situation hit him. 

“‘Just another mission’ huh big guy?” Soap chitteered towards him as he noticed the change in König’s demeanor. 

Ghost huffed beside him, “You should never underestimate the cold. Would rather get hit with 10 bullets before my dick freezes off” 

“Wouldn’t want some Russian kid to mistake it for the nose of their snowman would you?” Soap bickered back laughing as Ghost rolled his eyes in response. 

“Focus up now, this is an extraction only mission. Remove the girl safely with minimal risk. That means not shooting for the sake of it. After the extraction has been confirmed, meet at the meet up spot and wait for the signal” Price stands at the entrance of the chopper signaling for his team to drop. 

The team stealthy drops from the chopper and once they reach the ground static from the comms fill their ears as Price gives them a farewell. 

The team rounded the perimeter as they approached the small cottage in the middle of the forest. König didn’t feel right about this extraction and he couldn’t shoulder the feeling as he gave Ghost coverage to the opening of the cottage.  

As they breached, König felt uneasy as he didn’t hear Soap come in on the comms confirming entry. Ghost turned back to look at him, giving him a confused look. A loud noise within the cottage made them inch their way inside. The walls were decorated with weapons of all kinds, ranging from international military warfare to underground black market weapons. 

Ghost and König suddenly heard Soap's voice yelling in the distance. Before they could even make their way to his side, someone ran right into Ghost's arms knocking him down as he was taken by surprise. König immediately had his weapon drawn at the intruder but quickly lowered it as he confirmed that it was the girl that they were supposed to extract. 

She fought against Ghost but as soon as she saw that he was not her kidnapper she quieted down enough for Ghost and König to quickly evacuate the cottage. Running out into the snow they heard gunshots fired from the windows and immediately threw themselves to the ground to shield themselves from the bullets. After it went quiet, König looked towards his teammate to make sure him or the girl were hit but he was surprised to only see Ghost beside him. Looking around he quickly spotted the girl running away from the cottage. 

Standing to go after her, he was immediately taken down again by a hot blast behind him. That's when he knew he was absolutely fucked. 

“не двигайся! кто ты?” Calina’s hot breath turned into frost as she confronted the man. 

“My name is König. I was a part of the mission designed to extract you” An accented voice replied. 

Calina felt goosebumps crawl up her arms as he spoke and she did everything to convince herself that it was the Russian winter and not the deepness of his voice. 

“How do I know if you’re telling the truth?” Calina’s arms are still raised in front of her in a protective stance weary of König. 

König said nothing but instead reached into his tactical vest pulling out a gold necklace. Calina's heart dropped as she recognized the necklace that her mother would always wear before she passed away. Her father always kept it on his person like it was the most important thing in the world. Dropping her hands to her side, König stepped forward and dropped the necklace into the palm of her hand. Calina tried not to let the memories of her father resurface to prevent embarrassing herself in front of some man she didn't even know. 

Suddenly, she felt hands around her waist as König pulled her behind him with his gun pointed into the darkness of the woods. Calina held in a breath as she tried to look around König's back to see what the threat was. If her kidnappers survived the explosion and were coming back for her. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of going back. 

"Friendly!" Another masked man appeared from the forest, he wasn't as big as König but he still towered over her. She could tell from the uniform and the way that König's body relaxed against her that König knew this man. 

"Ghost what the hell. I could've shot you" The man named Ghost stepped closer to them and she realized that he had on a different kind of baclava on than König. Where König's was a blank material Ghost had a skull painted on the front of it. 

"Have you made any communication?" Ghost questioned his teammate. 

"I tried the line but got no response. The comms must be down. The area is clear I haven't spotted anyone else, we would have to get to higher ground" Both König and Ghost glanced up the mountain beside them. Calina followed their gaze, growing up the mountains were forbidden during the winter. The fresh snow was harder and more dangerous to climb than compacted snow, making those who do climb the mountain idiotic in the face of the elders. Calina could hear her Babushka warn her about the dangers of the winters and honestly she didn't know what her Babushka would do in this situation but she knows what she would do. What she has to do. 

"We should go up that path" Calina poked out from behind König to gesture to the trail underneath the thick trees. Ghost looked surprised at her appearance and looked to König but König must've said it all with a look because he didn't otherwise say anything. 

"As you say, I will lead the way. Stay close"

Calina couldn’t describe why being surrounded by two giants of men lit a fire in her stomach rather than make her scared. Pushing the thought off to the lack of human contact and touch within the last two years she tried to ignore the feeling of Ghost against her back following her up the mountain with König in front of her blocking the downward wind. 

However, the three of them stop suddenly as they hear a huge crack in the earth. Like it was the call of her people, Calina knew instantly what it meant and grabbed König in front of her, throwing him back onto a rock beside them. 

“Avalanche!” Calina yelled to Ghost behind her as she reached to pull him to safety but instead of finding him standing behind her he had lost his footing and was fighting against the loose snow. 

Calina hurriedly reached down to grab his hand but as they connected hands she quickly realized that she was not strong enough to hold onto his body weight against the pull of the avalanche and she was quickly pulled forward against the rock at the added weight. 

Bracing for the coldness of the snow, she was surprised at the sudden heat against her entire body. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she realized that König was practically laying on top of her body reaching for his team mate and preventing her from falling into the avalanche. Pure muscles worked above her as König pulled Ghost onto the rock. Trying to calm the fire in her stomach, she rolled out from under König after Ghost was pulled to safety. 

“You got quick reflexes,” Ghost said to her as he brushed off the snow from the layers of tactical wear. 

“I grew up in these woods, it was mostly muscle memory” Calina avoided looking into their eyes trying to calm her beating heart. 

“Either way you saved our lives. We are in your debt” König looked at her in a way that made her want to combust. She hated how seductive that sounded and she absolutely loathed the way Ghost was staring at her like he could read her mind. 

Not trusting her voice she quickly stood up, instantly feeling a rush of ice cold air on her face. Coldness seeped into her bones from the lack of protective clothing. The light jacket and linen pants did next to nothing at keeping her warm and as the adrenaline in her body wore off the more she was being affected by it. 

Ghost noticed her body shaking from the cold and the strong urge to protect her almost knocked him off his feet. He tried to remind himself that she is a part of their extraction and nothing else but the way that her scent carries over to him as the wind goes through her hair and the feel of her body pressed against him as she unconsciously goes behind him to block herself from the wind makes him want to abandon all sense of control. 

However, he realized that he wasn’t the only one feeling that way as he looked at his teammate finding a similar light in his eyes as he remained locked on the woman cowardly behind him. 

Shaking off the thought, Ghost searches out in the distance for any form of shelter to get her, them, out of this weather. Looking through his NVG’s he finds a small shed located half a mile away. It looked small for the three of them but it would have to work. 

“There is shelter to get through the night, just half a mile north” König nods to Ghost to lead that way allowing Calina to get in between them once more. 

Calina tried to calm her shivering offering the thought of persevering for half a mile and then she could be warm. But she knew that to be unlikely, the only shelter she can imagine in such an isolated place is not livable. Meaning she will not be sleeping in a bed nor among thick blankets she doubted they would even be able to light a fire, the realization of that almost sent her to tears. 

She trained her eyes on the back of Ghost, noticing his body also being affected by the cold. His body visibly vibrated from shivering, his arms stretched across his chest trying to preserve body heat. Calina quickly sobered up from the cold and realized that these men were not born and raised through Russia’s winter. Her body and blood was born for these mountains. The softness of her body was made to combat these temperatures. 

However, these men were made of pure muscle and none of the softness that kept her somewhat warm. By the time they reached the shed the toughest members of the 141 were broken down into two trembling masses. Calina quickly rushed towards the door of the shed and pulled it open against the wind. Ghost and König shuffled in while she closed the door making sure no wind could creep in. 

König had never felt so cold in his life. He could feel it in his blood clinging to his bone. It was embarrassing that he couldn’t stop shaking. His hands vibrated against him as he stood on wobbly knees. 

He has crossed the most dangerous of organizations, the deadliest of humans, and yet this night the cold will finish him off. 

It was humbling to say the least, to watch a woman that has experienced nothing but solitude and isolation amongst her own fathers murderers for the last two years was handling this better than him. He and Ghost watched as she searched the shed for any blankets or extra clothes, though they doubted they would fit either man. 

Tears were forming in Calina’s eyes as she pulled a thick soft blanket from under a box. She could almost laugh as she realized that she would be able to survive through the night. For the first time that night she was finally able to relax and for the first time in two years she was able to sleep knowing she was safe. Turning to Ghost and König, she held the blanket in front of her proudly as a way to show them that they were probably not going to die tonight. Suddenly all thoughts left her brain as she finally realized the situation in front of her. 

She would have to sleep with them. In this small shed. Sharing one blanket. 

A familiar heat arose in her stomach at the thought of being sandwiched between these giants. A moan almost escaped her as she could imagine the warmth of being between them. 

Sometime in between the time of entering the shed to her finding the blanket, Ghost and König had both removed their wet clothes leaving them both in long pants that were under their uniform. Both males were shirtless and for the first time Calina realized that she could see their faces. 

Her mouth remained open as her eyes filtered between the two of them. They were devastatingly handsome in a roguish way that she expected. As she moved towards them she realized the height difference felt much more as they towered over her. 

“You should remove your clothes” König’s voice rattled.

Looking down at her clothes she noticed that the bottom of her pants and top were soaked from the avalanche and being pressed against the snowy rock. 

She refused to remember the feeling of being pinned by König. 

“Don’t fear you can trust us. You will get sick if you sleep in those wet clothes, liebling” König’s voice was gentle as he grabbed the blanket. Ghost quickly gathered some hay from the corner to soften the cold hard ground beneath them. König handed Ghost the blanket as he settled on the hay waiting for Calina and König. 

König was gentle in helping Calina out of her shirt and pants. He didn’t miss the way she covered her belly or chest after getting out of her wet clothes and König didn’t miss the way his heart squeezed against his chest at the sight of her. 

Calina’s heart was beating fast as she felt ghosts of König’s fingertips against her body. She tried to not feel embarrassed about her body as more of it became revealed. She definitely tried not to think of running back out in the storm when she realized that she didn’t have a bra on. She faced König and Ghost bare chested and was surprised when she wasn’t met with total disgust. 

Instead, König looked at her with a hunger and awe in his eyes while Ghost just looked like he wanted to devour her. Their attention almost made her feel warm but a sudden gust of wind knocked against the house making the shed feel like an ice box. A violent shiver racked through her as König held out his hand gesturing to the makeshift bed of hay that Ghost was occupying. 

Calina settled on the floor facing Ghost leaving some room between them. However, that served no purpose as König squeezed in beside her pushing her body flush to the front of Ghost while König was pressed against her back. Warmth immediately seeped into the three of them as König covered them with the thick blanket that thankful was big enough to cover all of them.

A silence filled the air as Calina was trying not to freak out at being sandwiched between two of the hottest giants she has ever come across. She could feel the ripple of their muscles as they both shuffled to make themselves more comfortable in such a limited space. She remained as stiff as a board as they adjusted themselves hoping that they can’t feel her body in such an intimate space. 

A warm arm stretched out behind her and tightly wrapped around her torso pulling her snuggly the hard chest behind her. She let out a gasp at the feeling of being pressed to every inch of König’s body, trying not to think of what König thinks of the skin beneath his hands. 

Ghost watched as Calina blushed at the feeling of being held in such an intimate way. He wondered how long it had been since someone held her like this, since someone cared for her. Reaching his hand out, he ghosted his fingertips across her hairline down to her brows. She was looking at him so softly it made his heart squeeze beneath his chest. He could feel her chest rising and falling against his own and tried to not think about the way that it affected him. 

Nearly impossible to get closer, Ghost gently grabbed her arm that was pressed against his chest and guided it around his waist. He could feel her hesitate before she completely melted against him. She nuzzled her head into his chest and wrapped her leg over his own. The thoughts in his head were going static but he ignored them as he leaned down to press a smile against her hairline.

Calina was absolutely buzzing from the attention, she felt absolute warmth rush through her body and sit in her chest. A smile permanently etched on her face as she felt the pull of sleep. 

Ghost and König watched as she fell asleep and went limp in their arms, their hearts fluttering when they saw the smile that she held in her sleep. Neither looked at each other but both knew they were thinking the same thoughts. 

Saving the conversation for another day, they followed Calina into the depths of sleep.

[city-of-ladies]

Söyembikä, regent of Kazan

"Söyembikä (c. 1516-after 1554), ruler of the khanate of Kazan, one of the successor states to the Turko-Mongol state of the Golden Horde, located in the middle Volga basin around the confluence of the Volga and Kama rivers.

From 1549 until 1551, Söyembikä ruled in the name of her minor son Utamesh-Garay, before Muscovite Russia took Kazan in 1552. In Tatar national history Söyembikä symbolizes her people’s helpless resistance to Russian invaders. She has been the subject of popular stories, tales, epics, and paintings.

Söyembikä was the daughter of Yusuf (d. 1554), the ruler of the Noghay horde, one of the kingdoms that arose from the breakup of the Golden Horde in modern-day southern Russia. Söyembikä lived in a period of great uncertainty: Noghay, Crimean, and Kazan princes competed to revive the Golden Horde, and Muscovite rulers sought to protect and expand their territory beyond the Volga to the southeast. The grand princes of Moscow paid tribute to the successors of their former suzerains, the Golden Horde, but they also involved themselves in their dynastic disputes. 

The Noghay princess Söyembikä became the wife of three successive khans in the middle Volga basin: Jan Ali (or Cangali, r. 1533-1535), Safa-Garay (r. 1536-1549), and Shah Ali (or Şahgali, r.1553). Her marriage to the pro-Muscovite Jan Ali was politically motivated and received the blessing of the Russian grand prince Vasili III (r. 1505-1533), who wished to secure his southern frontier from future Noghay incursions. The anti-Muscovite party in Kazan assassinated Jan Ali, and Söyembikä married the pro-Noghay Crimean Tatar Safa-Garay, a descendant of Genghis Khan. Her new husband ended up alienating non-Tatar indigenous peoples of the middle Volga. 

Following the death of Safa-Garay in 1549, Söyembikä became regent for their two-year-old son, Utamesh-Garay. Russian chroniclers described Soyembika as a “lioness” who was energetic, beautiful, and wise. As regent she sought military help from neighboring Muslim states to resist Russian encroachment. Despite all her efforts she was caught between pro-Muscovite and pro-Crimean parties inside her government and proved unable to stop Ivan the Terrible of Moscow (r. 1533-1584) from gaining the support of the non-Tatar peoples of the Volga basin and Tatars who resented the presence of Crimeans on their soil.

In August 1551 a new pro-Muscovite government arrested both mother and son and sent them to Moscow. A year later Ivan the Terrible took Kazan. Exiled in Kasimov, Söyembikä was forced to marry Shah Ali, the pro-Russian khan of Kasimov, and separate herself from her son, who was baptized under the name of Alexander. Her son died in 1566; Söyembikä’s date of death is still unknown, as is the site of her grave.

Numerous Tatar traditions kept her memory alive, praising her for her strong opposition to Moscow. Some stories affirm that she warned Safa-Garay of the imminent fall of the kingdom and brought poisoned food and a poisoned shirt to the pro-Muscovite Shah Ali. Others say that in 1550 she appeared in arms to defend the city of Kazan. Others claim that Ivan the Terrible had heard of Söyembikä’s beauty and wanted to marry her, but the proud queen refused and the tsar took Kazan, imprisoned her, and asked for her hand again. Söyembikä promised to marry him only if he built her a high tower in the kremlin in seven days. With the help of the finest artisans, Ivan fulfilled her demand, but when the tower was finished, Söyembikä climbed to the top and jumped to her death. The Tower of Söyembikä, a former watchtower or minaret, still stands in the Kazan kremlin, but it was probably built in the seventeenth or eighteenth century, long after the queen’s death. The monument may bear Söyembikä’s name because she prayed at her husband’s nearby tomb before she left the city. 

The Tatar historian Hadi Atlasi (1876-1938), who presented Söyembikä as a model of courage and piety for all girls, indicated that women liked to read the Qur an at this sacred place and make wishes. Finally, the well-known “Lament of Söyembikä,” written in the first person, has long symbolized the historical fate of the Tatars, who became the subjects of a non-Muslim state after the conquest of Kazan in 1552."

Kefeli Agnes, Smith Bonnie G. (eds.). The Oxford Encyclopedia of Women in World History

[mrs-stans]

Sebastian Stan and Jeremy Strong Say Their Trump Movie Is a Tragedy, Not a Mockery

The “Apprentice” stars and the director Ali Abbasi say their film is a “humanistic” treatment of the former president and his mentor, Roy Cohn.

By Kyle Buchanan

It’s natural to feel nervous before presenting your movie at a major film festival. But in late August, when the director Ali Abbasi boarded a flight to the Telluride Film Festival, he wasn’t even sure if his new movie “The Apprentice” — a fictionalized look at the Machiavellian bond between the young Donald J. Trump (Sebastian Stan) and the lawyer and fixer Roy Cohn (Jeremy Strong) — would be permitted to play there at all.

“It was really crazy what happened, and I spared Jeremy and Sebastian some of it, but it is a demoralizing feeling,” Abbasi admitted during a recent video call with his two stars. The former president had been threatening legal action against “The Apprentice” since its May debut at the Cannes Film Festival, which chilled distributor interest in the movie for months and made it a controversial prospect for any subsequent festival willing to show it.

“If a movie comes out and people think it’s bad or it’s flawed, you can deal with that,” Abbasi said. “But when it goes into a safe box indefinitely, that was heavy.”

In the end, Trump failed to follow through on his threats, Telluride played the movie without incident and “The Apprentice” ultimately found a distributor in Briarcliff Entertainment, which will release the film on Friday. Still, Strong was perturbed by how many major studios were unwilling to take on the film and potentially incur the presidential candidate’s wrath.

“You think that things could be banned in North Korea or Russia or certain places, but you don’t think that will ever happen here,” Strong said. “It’s a real dark harbinger that it even nearly happened.”

Written by Gabriel Sherman, “The Apprentice” begins with Trump in his 20s as he toils under his real-estate magnate father and aspires to become a momentous figure in his own right. Still, Trump’s ambition exceeds his ability until he meets the savvy Cohn, who takes the young man under his wing and imparts ruthless rules for success that will eventually launch Trump onto the highest stage imaginable.

“The Apprentice” could be an awards-season player for Stan, best known as the Marvel super-soldier Bucky Barnes, and for Strong, the Emmy-winning “Succession” actor who recently took home a Tony for “An Enemy of the People.” But will the politically charged fervor around the movie help or hurt their bids?

“Here’s the crazy thing: I don’t think this movie is controversial,” Abbasi said. “It’s retelling information that is freely and readily available everywhere, and it’s fact-checked and triple-checked. So my big question is, what is the problem?”

Here are edited excerpts from our conversation.

At the beginning of the film, Sebastian, you play Trump as much more soft-spoken and abashed than we’re used to seeing him.

SEBASTIAN STAN Go rewatch Netflix’s [docuseries] “An American Dream,” look at all the early footage of him standing in front of a committee with a giant yellow ’70s tie and trying to find the right words to express himself. Watch him in the courtroom when he’s with Roy waiting to get the tax abatement: You’re seeing a starry-eyed kid who’s doing his best to keep his chin up and feign confidence. We need to stop talking about him like he’s a being from outer space. He’s been made on this planet like the rest of us.

ALI ABBASI There is a version of this you can read as the becoming of a monster. There’s also another version, which is this human tragedy: Were there other possibilities for these people if their whole world was not reduced to winning and taking?

JEREMY STRONG I 100 percent see it as a human tragedy, the way that I saw “Succession” as a tragedy of late-stage capitalism. With that show, we were at a party at Adam McKay’s house [he was a producer on “Succession”] the night of the election in 2016, and we had our first table read [the next] morning. Then Trump was elected, and that changed the whole container of the show and the way it spoke to the country. There’s an idea I think about a lot that applies to both of those things, something that Jung said: “Where love is absent, power fills the vacuum.”

What’s exciting about this movie is that it touches the third rail of all of these things, which not a lot of work frankly does these days. The world is on fire, and it feels like a lot of our business veers more and more toward laundry-folding content and things that are relatively safe.

Some people, sight unseen, have accused the film of “humanizing” Trump. What’s your response to that?

STRONG It’s a humanistic interrogation and investigation of these people. Ali is not making “The Great Dictator” — it’s not a farce, it’s not a cartoon. We’re trying to hold a mirror up to this world and these individuals and try to understand how we got here.

“I don’t think this movie is controversial,” the director Ali Abbasi said. “It’s retelling information that is freely and readily available everywhere.”

ABBASI I think it’s a dangerous thing to start thinking, “Oh, you humanize someone too much.” Why would that ever be a problem?

With independent films, there’s always a risk that the work will never be widely seen. This is an unusual case where a high-profile indie was in danger of never being seen at all.

ABBASI During the summer when people were saying there’s a chance this is not going to be shown, I was angry. I thought, “Oh, they’re going to rip me off, they’re going to sell it and not give me money.” I could not believe it, honestly, and I kept asking different people, “How is this possible?” I come from Iran and I’m used to dictators and authoritarian governments, but I always thought whatever fault there is with American society, freedom of speech is not one of the problems.

STRONG We live in such a binary time. There’s such black-and-white thinking and a real failure to contain complexities or dualities, and I think that’s part of what has gotten us into trouble societally.

Though the movie is coming out just weeks before the presidential election, it’s been in development for years.

ABBASI We tried to make the movie many times and it fell through. I remember the time after Jan. 6, it was like looking at a stock market crash the day after: Everyone was like, “No thank you, no thank you.” Finally, when Jeremy came on board, you could actually start to see the movie in its whole.

STRONG At no point was the intention to release this in the middle of an election. This wasn’t purpose-built for that. There was never a plan to make this a political act or a hand grenade to be dropped in the middle of the election. It is, I think, incredibly fortuitous timing that it can come out at a moment where it has the potential to illuminate something about the inner workings of this man, but it stands alone as a film.

Sebastian, what did your friends and family say when you told them you were playing Trump?

STAN Pretty sure my mom said, “At least you get to shave.” But I asked a lot of people about it, actually. A C.E.O. of a studio told me not to do it because I was going to alienate half the country, and a casting director who I respect very much said, “We don’t need another Trump movie, you’re never going to get any applause for it.” And then there were other people saying, “Are you going to be worried about your safety?” But for some reason every time somebody said, “Don’t do it,” it made me want to do it more.

“We need to stop talking about him like he’s a being from outer space” Stan said of Trump. “He’s been made on this planet like the rest of us.”

Cohn takes on Trump as his protégé, but the movie hints that there’s a sexual undercurrent to the older man’s interest, too.

ABBASI If you look at who was Roy’s type, it was young, tall, blond guys. I mean, Donald Trump was basically his type. Now, does it mean that was the reason they met and developed a relationship? Not solely, not necessarily. Jeremy’s going to shoot me down now, but it felt like he was someone who was turned on by the idea of impossible love a little bit, and Donald, in a way, was an impossible love.

“We’re trying to hold a mirror up to this world and these individuals and try to understand how we got here,” said Strong, left.

STRONG I don’t disagree with Ali on that, although I was interested in exploring what I felt was a rather chaste, platonic form of love that exists between men, which is friendship. But what did he see in him? Roy cultivated influence. It allowed him to feel elevated above the crowd, and he saw something in Donald that mirrored himself. There’s also that idea that when a student is ready, a teacher appears. They just happen to meet in this moment in time where he [Cohn] could sort of be Iago and blow poison into his ear.

Ali, when the film debuted at Cannes and Trump threatened to file a lawsuit, you said, “Everybody talks about him suing a lot of people. They don’t talk about his success rate, though.” You appeared unbothered, but how did you really feel?

ABBASI I learned a lesson when I did “Holy Spider,” my last movie. I knew that it was going to be controversial and sit badly with the Iranian government, then a teaser came out and the speaker of the Parliament said he thinks it is blasphemy. You realize that you are dealing with forces that are so much bigger than you as a human being or as an artist, but what can I do? Am I going to take the next flight, go and talk to the speaker of the Parliament and say, “No, I’m not blasphemous”?

In that way, we are sort of riding on the back of the dragon whether we like it or not. The other part is, I think a lot of what is happening right now is a knee-jerk reaction of people who have not watched the movie yet. For me, this conversation becomes real when the movie comes out, when people actually have seen it, when Mr. Trump has seen it. I would be super interested to know what he thinks either way. He might learn something. I’m not saying it in a condescending way, but he might.

Though the timing of this release is fraught, what are the good things about it coming out so close to the election?

ABBASI For me, this would be as relevant in December or next January as it is now. In that way, I don’t think we need the election to make us relevant, but am I not excited about us being in an interaction with the back of the dragon? I would lie to you if I wasn’t.

STRONG It’s mandatory viewing for any sentient beings right now who care about what’s happening in this country, and I think it offers vital insight, which could move the needle in a real way. In this moment where we’re surrounded by rhetoric of hate and divisiveness, I think art has a place and film has a place.

STAN I worry that people are desperate for answers and for guidance. They want to be told how to feel, they want to be told what’s right and what’s wrong. This whole discomfort with the film only reflects why it’s important: It isn’t just what you’re learning about Trump, it’s also what you’re learning about yourself from Trump.

I worry that we’re not going deeper anymore with how we approach things. We’re just reading Wikipedia pages. If that’s what you’re going to do, then you’ll just float among the rest of the ghosts of Christmas past. But the rest of us, at least, are going to try and get to the bottom of some things.

[yeetmyboi]

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭.

Chapter 2 : “Kerosene… is nothing but perfume to me.”

——— ——— ———

Chapter title is a quote from Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury.

——— ——— ———

Jet fuel always had a way of burning the hairs in your nostrils. The way it hung in the air like a haze. The smell was strong enough to give you a slight headache. Still, it was comforting. Something familiar to keep you awake and rooted in the present.

As promised, that burner directed you when and where you needed to be. Some rundown airfield far outside the city. Right at the break of dawn.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when you were walking up. Painting the sky in almost brush-like strokes of orange and pink. Bathing everything in it’s warm golden glow.

It was a fairly empty airfield, only having a cracking tarmac and a rusty old building. Definitely looked unused. Though given that you’re here now, you can’t too certain about that.

That abandoned building had definitely seen better days. Nearly covered in rust and overgrowth. Patches of grass were poking through the cracks of broken asphalt. Nature seemed to be pushing back against the man-made structures. An effort you fully supported. With everything you’ve seen, and done, seeing nature take back what man once took was a comforting sight.

Overall, it was a peaceful scene. One that feels out of place for what you’re actually there for.

You stood there on the cracked black tarmac, back straight and shoulders relaxed. Confident but ready. You did your best to savor the few hours you got to sleep in your own bed. Having just a small inkling that this might be the most rested you’ll be for a good while.

You hear the distant chopping of a helicopter before you see it. That strong smell of fuel coming with it. It was a small one, looking a little as if it’s seen it’s own battle or two. You stand there watching as the helicopter made its descent towards you. Hovering gently over the old asphalt. The wind from the blades whipping your tight ponytail around. Your hand held onto the strap from your worn Hollow Inc. standard-issue duffle bag. That was now threatening to fly off your shoulder.

It has seen you through many haywire missions. At one time you weren’t one to believe in superstition such as ‘good luck’ charms. But if you made it through some close calls with it… then it became a small comfort to have it.

In the end, it’s up to you and your gear that determines your chance of survival.

With Laswell hinting at colder weather, you made sure to pack correctly. Enough to keep you warm and insulated, but not enough to make you sweat. A delicate balance you had come to learn over the years. Extra wool socks, your warmest thermals, and even wool underwear. That had quite literally saved your ass from freezing the last few times you’ve worked in the coldest of climates.

Once the aircraft was barely kissing the ground, you could see Laswell typing away on a sleek laptop. The sharp concentration on her face clear as her head turned towards you, waving you to hop on. Clearly looking to move quickly.

Hopefully it doesn’t mean it’s a long ride to wherever the hell she was taking you…

—— —— ——

Fuckin’ hell… thank god Kate warned you about the fucking weather…

Russia. That’s where you were heading. Somewhere by the East Siberian Sea. At least an hour or two from the nearest town. Hunting down some loose ends and unraveling new ones. Nothing new.

Kate’s voice crackled through the PNR headset as she informed you of all this. Promising that the Captain could fill you in properly once you land. She’s been bombarding you with information the second you put the headset on. Finally able to tell you the more gritty details since you are officially on the team.

Then there was that. You were on a team. Not like you haven’t been before, but now it seems to be more of an obstacle. One that you needed to overcome in order for this job to work. Unlike something you could just ignore like you had in the past. The previous teams you’ve been on were always large groups for a limited time. Allowing you to keep to yourself for the most part.

This time you were on a small team for an indefinite amount of time. It was paramount that you lot worked as smooth as a well oiled machine.

Kate tells you it’s a tight knit team. Built up by four men. Two Sergeants, one Lieutenant, and one Captain. You’re not entirely sure where you’ll fall on this short totem pole, given that you were once a Lieutenant yourself. You just know you’ll need to make a good impression. At least that’s what Kate politely asks you to do.

You had, what most would call, a ‘bad habit’ of letting your temper and cold demeanor affect your work relationships. Sharpening your words and actions to those around you as a means to maintain an emotional distance. Not that it affects your skill at an any of your ‘jobs’. But you’ve been told by your commander, and now by Laswell, that you needed to start making an effort about it. This problem only really making itself known within the past few months.

It never used to be this bad… not until you lost him.

Grief changes people. Some for the better, others for the worse. You found yourself hating that you just might be the latter. Honestly, you’d have to be an idiot if you thought you’d make it to the other side of it unscathed.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as you feel the slow descent of the helicopter. Looking out the window to your left, it was damn near blinding. Nothing but snow with a forest creeping in slowly, breaking it up. So damn bright. Your eyes squint, looking to the only thing that stood out amongst the sea of white and green.

Your new ’home’.

A small base nuzzled in between the large snow drifts and a wide tree line that surrounded the clearing. Like a white dot about to be swallowed by coniferous evergreens.

The helicopter landed softly on the frozen asphalt. Rocking you and Laswell slightly. You felt bit on edge, but chose bury it. Being told to ‘play nice’ shouldn’t rattle you up this much. Surely, you could fake it. Right? Even if one of them gets on your nerves.

Too late to get cold feet now, you chided yourself.

A icy blast was slapping you in the face as Laswell swung the door open. You climbed out after her, duffle bag swung over your shoulder once more. The old metal door creaking as you slammed it shut. Quickly, you look around. Taking in how many buildings, armed guards, and just how many people were here in this seemingly small base. Even noting the large icicles that hung from the main building. Soldiers were running about, completely unfazed by you and Laswell’s arrival.

Looking over your shoulder, you watched the helicopter take off. Watching it for a moment as it flew out of sight. Taking the moment to mentally prepare.

“Coming, Lieutenant?”

Kate’s voice pulls you back into ‘soldier mode’. She stands there, her head tilting towards the entrance of the main building. Your head snapped back to her, giving a curt nod.

“Yes ma’am.”

—— —— ——

Kate gives you a quick tour. Enough to get a sense of the base that was to be your home for the next few weeks. She makes a stop to show you to your room, allowing you to drop off your gear and have a quick glance around. Then she’s pulling you to a wing full of— what you guess— meeting rooms and offices.

“The boys will be joining you in a minute. I unfortunately have to leave you here.” Laswell says, opening a door to an empty meeting room. Her head motioning for you to head in while having that same practiced smile when you first met.

You follow her lead, walking pass her with a nod of your own. Your eyes do another quick assessment of the small room.

It was a fairly simple conference room. Though it was definitely dated. The walls and ceiling had various brown marks of water damage. Dusty and a bit musky. Shitty insulation.

There was a large table in the middle of the room. Four chairs all on the furthest side from you. A stack of Manila folders in the middle of it, much like the one Kate pulled had yours in back home. A projector hung from the ceiling, pointing towards the wall closest to you and the door. There was a clear lack of windows. Clearly not wanting anyone to be see what might get discussed in this room.

“Thank you, ma’am. Will I be seeing you around?” You asked looking at her over your shoulder, flashing polite smile. If you were going to be forced to actually try and be friendly with your teammates, might as well start now.

Laswell kept her smile and gave another nod, “Of course. Oh, and one more thing.”

Your brows furrow slightly but your smile stays. Opting to give her a warm but inquisitive look.

“You were a Lieutenant once, but given that you left special forces over a year ago, you won’t be held in that regard. Meaning, you will have the least authority in the group. I hope that isn’t going to be a problem.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. Have a seat.” Laswell says before shutting the door, leaving you all alone.

You grab a chair closest to the door. It wasn’t long until you heard two voices coming down the hall. Their muffled words becoming clearer as they were nearly at the door now. Your ears listen closely as you could make out the two distinct accents. One seemingly Scottish and the other more British, thought couldn’t exactly place where from.

“Ye think it’ll be a lad or a lass?”

“Don’t know. Find it strange we’re reaching out for help— from a PMC no less.”

“Aye.”

So far, you already feel at a disadvantage. They clearly aren’t excited in another member joining the team.

The door opens. Your eyes snapped up. Two men came barreling through, absorbed in their conversation. That was until the shorter man with a Warhawk locked eyes with you. Causing both to pause their discussion. Both pair of eyes rake over you for a second before warm smiles showed on their faces.

“Would ye look at that…”

It took you a moment to realize you’re staring at them with an icy stare. You shift slightly in your seat, turning your head away, acting like their stares aren’t of any concern to you. Arms crossed over your chest while moving to lean back into a more laidback posture. The chair creaking quietly underneath you.

You pretend not to have noticed the way their eyes paused at your face. Everyone seemed to have the same reaction. Knowing exactly what they were staring at.

A nasty scar marred your soft skin. Deep and holding a more pinkish-red hue despite it being years old now. It branched off into three different directions. The main and deepest stem starting by the left corner of your lip, curving up close by your left nostril before breaking into two. The lightest stem continuing up and ending just by the bridge of your nose. While the other curved under your eye and flicking upwards just before disappearing.

The two men took their seats furthest from you. Heads looking in your direction, unsure how to break the slight tension. But you ignored it. Mulling over just how much exactly you were needed to be friendly for this.

It wasn’t until a hulk of a man entered the room. Dressed nearly in all dark gear. You say nearly because of the mask he wore. A balaclava with a crudely sewn-on white skull. You felt as if you were a dog, hackles raised and suddenly on the defensive.

[bellaluvsmakarov]

Angel - First Nikto oneshot ik it's horrible but I was rushing😭🙏

Nikto, a strong Russian military man, was in the forests of Russia. Nikto finds a village and well, he was tired. Being the sweetheart you are, you invite him in, give him something to eat, drink, and give him some clothes while you wash his uniform

"Thank you.." He mutters out in a raspy tone. "Of course!" you kindly say, folding his uniform. Nikto finishes his drink and food and stands up. "Where do I put this?" He grumbles. "Right over there," You smile, pointing to the sink, "I can wash it later." You say as you begin putting his patches in the correct position.

The sun starts to set and it starts getting colder. "Let's get you to your room." You smile as you speak, grabbing Nikto's hand and leading him to a room. You leave and go to your room to retire for the night.

It's 12:34AM and Nikto is still up, laying in the bed, thinking he has came across an angel.

[octuscle]

looooong loooooong time ago you gave away some magic suitcases. I'm looking for a timeout as a badboy maybe with a racial change cause my life is so straight: graduation last summer, wedding this summer and so on. I want an adventure!

Yes, I still have a suitcase from OTP. I couldn't assign it to anyone. The case was closed a long time ago… If I give you the suitcase, no one will notice.

There's not much in the case. A uniform. A few sports clothes. Protein powder. Energy drinks. All very neatly packed. Looks militarily neat. And even though the suitcase is from Romania, everything is obviously from Russia. At least that's what the flags and coats of arms on the uniform and the Cyrillic characters suggest… Actually, you would have expected something like this in a sports bag or an army backpack rather than a boring Samsonite suitcase. You can't really do anything with these things. But you wanted to go to the gym today anyway. Whatever's in the energy drink, you give it a try.

Shit, that's strong stuff. But you have the feeling that you could tear out trees. You go to the treadmill to warm up. You set the speed to 20 km/h. You wouldn't last a marathon at that speed. But 30 minutes is no problem. You're drenched in sweat. But now you're just getting started. You stand at the punching bag and punch and kick at it as if you've been practising Thai boxing since you were a child. And you have. Just like taekwondo and judo. You are a machine. A killer. Not just in the figurative sense. That's why you were dishonorably discharged from the army. The Serbian one, by the way. Not the Russian one. I admit, as an American you can confuse the flags and the language. Prokleti Amerikanci. Imperijalistički seronje! You spit at the thought of being mistaken for an American. Srbija Srbima. That's not just for decoration on your chest. It's your motto. And that of your comrades. Of course you would have liked to remain a proud member of the Serbian army. But in the end, you're better off with Srpska čast. They embody everything you stand for. Glory and honor for the Serbian people!

Of course you have to get married next summer. Bring good Serbian fighters into the world. But actually, women's asses are too soft for you. You'd rather fuck the asses of real men, well-trained fighters. Just like you are.

I found this awesome picture @zakucavanje. I would like to emphasize that I do not approve of paramilitary and separatist organizations. But I imagine their members to be similar. And the idea makes at least me horny.

[milaisreading]

Can I request a part two to isolation? I really wanna see c/n meet Norway and Iceland. Maybe Mr Puffin decides to make a few loud comments or something.

🌱🩷: Hope u are fine with what I came up for this request!

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

🌍Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya🌍

"(C/N)!!! HURRY UP! YOU NEED TO HURRY UP AND MEET MY FRIENDS!" The girl cringed from the spot she was standing on, looking at the approaching boat of her friend and ally, Denmark. It had been roughly 6 months since she agreed to open up her country. So far it was good, she established some trade deals with Russia, Belgium, and Netherlands, who she even met 2 months ago. Currently, her boss was negotiating trading offers with Britain, France, Spain, and Prussia, who she really wasn't keen on meeting, so her boss went without her.

'They all sound so intimidating from what I could read.' She thought, thinking of all the things she read about them. And right now she was waiting for Denmark to pick her up so she could meet 2 other nations. The Dane already established a strong relationship with her, so naturally he thought it would be a good idea for her to become close with 2 other nations he knew, Norway and Iceland. (Y/n) was pretty familiar with the two, well not familiar, but she heard a lot about them in the six months and prior to isolating herself. Denmark loved talking about his friends... a lot.

'I wonder if he talked about me.' She thought while nervously playing with her fingers. Too lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the ship dock on the port and the blonde nation running to her.

"What's with the long face?! The king is here to cheer you up!!" Denmark yelled, pulling the girl into a tight hug.

"D-Denmark?! Don't hug me so out of a sudden! And I was just thinking!" (Y/n) said, trying to get out of the hug as the people sent them weird glances or giggled at the exchange.

"But I missed you!"

She rolled her eyes at his words, but stopped the struggle, anyway.

"Are you ready? Did you pack what you need? Jeez, did it get colder since I last visited you?" Denmark kept asking as he let go of the smaller nation, shuddering as a gust of wind hit them.

"Well, you did visit me in June, now it's September, of course it will be colder now. Besides, you shouldn't have come to pick me up, I could have come with a ship." (Y/n) said to the taller, who shook his head.

"No way! I doubt that you remember how bad the North sea can be, it would be better if you don't go alone." Denmark argued as (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at her comment.

"I have well-equipped sailors, you know."

"I know you do, but better safe than sorry." Denmark added in and patted her head.

"Ok, ok. Anyway, want something to eat? We prepared some food for you and your men."

"Sure! Do you have any alcohol?"

"Yep. We made sure to get beer for you all." The girl said as she led Denmark into the city.

Two days later, Denmark and (C/n) left the port and ship set sails towards Denmark's place. Aside from (C/n) joining Denmark on the ship, she had brought some material goods as a gift to him and the 2 friends that were waiting for them to come back.

"I already prepared a whole plan for us! Since you are staying at my place for the next 2 weeks I made sure to write down all the important places for you to see." Denmark said excitedly as (Y/n) went over the list he gave her. She was really impressed with how detailed the list was.

"Thank you, but you didn't need to plan out so much. I would have been fine with anything. This was probably a chore to do." The girl looked up at the blonde as they sat in a cabin, the Dane only looked at her in confusion.

"It's not a chore, you are my friend so I want you to be comfortable while visiting. I didn't get to hang out with you in a long while."

"Still, I don't want to burden you-"

"You are not burdening me." Denmark interrupted her, sighing in annoyance as he poked her forehead a few times.

"Norge!! I brought my friend with me! Where are you and Iceland?" The Dane announced as he walked into his house, (Y/n) kept quiet as she looked around. It was a lot different than hers, not to mention that the weather was a lot warmer.

"I shouldn't have brought so many clothes along, now that I think about it." She mumbled to herself, jumping a little as she heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Must you be so loud? You don't know how silent the past days were without you." (Y/n) peeked a little behind Denmark to find a blonde boy with indigo eyes staring at Denmark in annoyance. He was a lot shorter than the Dane, but still a little taller than her.

'The descendants of Vikings are giants! The rumors were true!' She thought as the blonde turned his attention to her.

"I must apologize for him, he is a loud mouth most of the time." The boy said in a monotone manner, earning a loud protest from Denmark.

"I am Norway, by the way. You must be (C/n), the Dane talked a lot about you."

"He did?" She wondered in confusion as Denmark pushed her in front of Norway.

"I-I mean, he talked a lot about you and another country as well. It's nice to meet you."

Norway nodded his head and shook her hand.

"Well, it's nice that someone else in this house knows about manners as well." Notway off-handedly commented.

"You want something to drink? I made tea."

"Would be nice, thanks." She nodded her head, still a little awkward with the new nation.

'But, he seems nice. It's worth giving him a shot, I think.' (Y/n) thought as Norway led her to the kitchen.

"Hey! Don't forget about me like that." Denmark pouted, walking after the duo.

"The tea tastes amazing, Norway! Thank you  I really needed it after that trip we had." (Y/n) said as the blonde nodded his head.

"The North sea made issues again?" Norway wondered, glancing at Denmark.

"Just the usual. Though, (C/n) didn't sail on it for a while, so she was more shaken up."

"True, it was a terrifying experience." She admitted as Norway glanced at her.

"Understandable, I still remember the first time I sailed on it, but you get used after a while." The Norwegian shrugged as Denmark let out a loud sigh.

"Enough with the small talk, (C/n) didn't come all the way here for that." The two looked at each other and then at the blonde.

"We should go look for Icey and go around the city. Copenhagen changed a lot since she visited me the last time.."

"I am fine with it." Norway shrugged his shoulders, looking back at (Y/n).

"You fine with it as well?"

"O-oh! Sure, sounds great!" The other nation answered, still not used to his monotone voice.

'But he is very nice. Tho, I wonder why they don't have much food around. Denmark never told me he had any issues.' She thought, glancing at the kitchen suspiciously.

"Alright, I will go and get that rascal-"

"No need! He is hiding here!"

(Y/n) gasped in surprise as she heard a rough voice and turned to where the entrance to the kitchen was, only to find a black bird.

"Isn't that a Puffin? I read a lot about them. I didn't know that they could talk." She commented, looking back at Norway as Denmark walked over to where the bird was.

"Should have read more then, Missy!" Norway sent the bird a warning glare before looking back at (Y/n).

"Nr. Puffin is a special case, I guess. He can be a little rude, but please don't take it to heart." The blonde said as (Y/n) nodded her head.

"Don't worry, I can handle it." She said back.

"But, can you tell me why you have such a lack of f-"

"Let me go! I can walk on my own, I am not a kid." A new voice interrupted (Y/n)'s questioning and she turned to where Denmark was holding a much shorter boy with silver hair and purple eyes.

'Adorable!! Such a cute child!" She internally squealed as she looked a the boy, who was holding Mr. Puffin now.

"You sure are acting like one now, Iceland." Norway commented as both him and (Y/n) got up to where the trio were.

"You are Iceland?! It's nice to meet you, my name is (C/n). I am a new friend now, I guess." She said, fighting back the urge to hug the smaller.

"It's nice to meet you." The silver-haired boy blushed and looked away, embarrassed by the attention he was getting.

'So cute!' (Y/n) thought as Denmark put him down.

"By the way, did you bring us any food?" Iceland asked bluntly, looking at the nervous Dane.

"Ehm, well.... Boss said we will get new shipments next week."

"You said that last time." Mr. Puffin announced loudly as Iceland nodded his head.

"Uhm, are you guys struggling with food or something?" (Y/n) whispered in worry to Norway as Denmark tried to explain to the other two.

"A little. We had a small crisis after a conflict with Sweden. Denmark is trying his best to hold everything up, tho." Norway nodded, going back to calming down the two as (Y/n) thought everything over for a moment. She didn't want her new companions to suffer, especially when a little kid was involved. And besides, her boss did say she could do whatever as long as she made allies.

"Uhm, if you are having a hard time with food..." The four looked back at the girl, who became nervous from the attention she was getting.

"We... My people have a lot of food that we can give you."

"Food?! A lot of food?!" Iceland's eyes lightened up at those words.

"Huh? That's very generous of you. Will your boss be fine with that?" Norway asked, surprised by the offer.

"Don't worry, he won't mind. Are you fine with it, Denmark?"

The Dane was taken aback by the offer. Sure, she was always nice to him, but the help she would send was always well-thought of, and not so impulsive.

"T-that would be great, if your people are fine with it as well."

"Don't worry, they will be."

(Y/n) assured them as the Puffin landed on her head.

"I might need to change owners. Missy, do you want a bird?"

"Uhm..." The girl muttered as Iceland stomped over to get the bird while Denmark and Norway started scolding him.

'Quite an interesting bunch.' She thought in amusement.

[sw33tsnow]

Attitude

Captain John Price x F!Reader

Summary: Military leave in England would be littered with thick confidential stamps folders and dozens of Base's phonecalls, John suppose, but you proved him wrong (18+)

Content: annual military leave, curvy&athletic!female!reader, deep voice!f!reader, (little) angst, childhood trauma, smut, smoking, fluff, age gap, boobs sucking, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, hickeys, spanking, cowgirl, handjob, cum eating

Word Count:  5k3

#: I'll apologize in advance cus English is not my first language (some grammar mistakes might appear); f!reader is NOT A BRAT; NOT FOR MINORS

December 1st, snow has already falling and the cold breeze was blowing in waves. Such a lovely time to visit and admire the "mysterious beauty" of Britain, said the radio, but not so ideal for someone who just got deployed to Russia.

John's building located in the suburbs, he enjoyed the spacious and airy atmosphere it carried. Perhaps that explains why it's quite lonely and separated here, not so many civilians chose to pass by this area. Parked the truck in the basement, the cold air made John snort in discomfort, had to pulled down that dark blue beanie to cover his red ears when he got out of the car. Swiftly stepped to the back seat where several stacks of papers and classified documents were stuffed in, he gave them an irritated look. Of course, John has the permission to go home empty-handed to savor these two "break months'' peacefully, but in the end, he has nothing to do. Kyle and Johnny were both home for holiday with their families, and Simon disappeared from sight 'cause Laswell needed a helping hand. No magic could make these files disappear if John left them at the base so taking them home is not a bad idea after all.

Struggling to carry the pile of papers out of the car, they're not heavy but quite bulky for one person to carry. If it ain't for the fact that the internet in this area is such crap, John would have gone to bed after a glass of Whiskey instead of standing here and thinking about how to get these shitty documents to his apartment.

"You need help with that?" A deep but hoarse female voice, probably due to the cold, caught John's attention. You stood there in an oversized hoodie and a pair of shaggy black leather pants, you wore white sneakers, not the pair that some brats normally bragged about and a gym bag was hanging on your shoulder. Your thick hair cut into a long pixie style but still looked silky.

"Not questioning your strength, 's just looks quite nasty over there"

"I mean...if ya don't mind" he replied in a grateful tone before you gave him a sweet smile and walked over to his truck. John almost mistaken you for a male because of your broad shoulders if he hadn't noticed your long lashes and those plump, pink lips.

You squatted down and gently lifted a cardboard box with folders of documents and papers piled on top, then walked to the door leading to the building's elevators.

Pushed and held the door with your back, "After you" you peeled back to John.

All your movements were resourceful and agile, watching you carried his things without difficulty made John quite impressed. It's not that you're strong because there are female soldiers in the military, but it's your gestures were so… gallant, they're not forced like girls tried to impress the men but completely natural like that's your character.

John hummed as a thanks and stepped inside. You both reached the top floor and you followed John to the end of the hallway, bet that's his apartment.

You put the stack of papers down and looked up at John, "Thank you, luv" he said with a hidden smile behind his mustache and the pet name he gave you undoubtedly made your thighs squished together.

You saw the wrinkles formed in his eye sockets as he squinted from smiling. You love his smile. In the basement, you didn't pay any mind and just simply asked if John wanted some help, just like when you carried groceries bags for mothers or helped the old neighbors on the same floor walk to their house, it was like a habit. But when John turned to look at you, couldn't lie, he looked handsome. Toned muscles back hidden under a leather jacket, handsome face with neatly trimmed beard and those navy blue pupils were what attracted you the most. He's certainly older than you, which makes him even more attractive.

"That's very kind of ya t' help" he added, oh, his deep voice and the accent were like music flowing into your ears. When John slightly cocked his head down, you noticed your height only reached his shoulders, despite you're an athlete.

"No big deal, sir, have a nice day" you gave him a small smile and turned around to go back to the elevator. Your eyes accidentally glanced at the random envelope with a single line 'To: Cpt. John Price'. John Price, what a fitting name, you think, but we probably won't meet again

"Wait, you haven't told me ya name?" Turned back, you kept silent before responded to those beautiful blue eyes with a wide toothy smile, making John dumbfounded.

As if the whole hallway lit up with your smile, " 's really nice to know you, Captain."

Fucking hell, the wind came from the open window didn't help John cooled down at all when your deep voice called his sign with that teasing tone. He stuttered, watching your disappearing figure as the elevator door closed without saying anything else. His cheeks turned red by the thought that it wasn't even a flirt but somehow he just so addicted to your voice, to that angelic smile. John didn't see many female colleagues on his HQ and not to mention plenty of deployments, his paperwork already kept him from visiting the pub - his one and only favourite thing but you might've just change his mind.

When the elevator stopped at the lobby floor, few residents got into the elevator with you and John. He noticed that you ain't a talkative one, always politely greeted everyone with a bow and a slight smile. You were also careful, too careful not to invade others' personal space. Polite and a little shy?, John guessed

Shaking his head and laughing at himself, John inserted the key into the lock and opened the door, using his foot to push one box in front of the door to keep it from closing and then carried the other inside. The annoying 'beep beep' sound from his watch made him wince, 2200, these can wait 'til tomorrow, he told himself, kicked off his boots and walked straight into the bedroom.

John regretted because the Whiskey he drank didn't do a damn thing but keep him up all night. Gave up and got out of bed, he tried to find something to do and as if completing the paperwork was a smart option.

0600, winter made it impossible to tell if the pitch black sky outside was early morning or midnight. Unable to concentrate, he decided to snack on something before went for a run because he knew how bad the consequences of skipping meals would be.

The road was slippery because of heavy snowfall yesterday. Luckily, John's eyes had adjusted to the darkness, couldn't relied on the useless dim light of the lampposts. It's now quite far from the building and almost into the city center, he ran through a park before stopping by the sound of a group chatting coming out of the opposite tower. It's you, still with a bright smile on your lips and that polite gesture, holding the door for those accompanying you. Both the male and the female, all looked about your same age and all had hair slightly wet. Perhaps only been wiped lightly, followed by two elders. Everyone laughed and talked cheerishly before waving their hands and splitting in different directions, you did the same, going towards the city center.

Honestly, John felt like a stalker following you like this. Years of military service had honed his tracking skills, as ridiculous as it sounded.

You stopped by a minimarket to pick up ingredients for your diet, meals are as important as the muscle exercises, and your cooking skills are very good too. Thanks to your grandmother for teaching you how to cook in such young age. Checking the list on your phone again, you pushed the cart to the checkout counter, saying goodbye to the friendly cashier and began to struggle with the messy bags.

"Need help with tha, luv?" John didn't hesitate to run to you and reached his hands out, repeated exactly what you asked him a few past hours ago.

You looked surprised but immediately answered him with a low giggle, John also grinned at you. For fuck sake, you wanted to punch yourself so bad. Why? Look at you, wearing a turtleneck and dusty jeans, no lipstick on and hair looked like a damped bird's nest. You're a grown woman, makeup and tight dresses are necessary but you don't take them too seriously. Private gym, swimming pool and your apartment are your daily destinations. Only traveled when your club accepted friendly matches with other clubs and your apartment will be replaced by the hotel you booked.

Waking up at the time when the whole city was still sleeping, the cashier and your team ain't no strangers to you, dressing up only took you away from your precious sleep. Minimalism - that's what you are, except for special occasions or nights out with your girls.

BUT right now, you extremely regret your choice.

Raised your free hand up to brush a hair strand out of sight, you walked up to John and motioned for him to walk with you.

On the way back to the building, the two of you talked more. John learned that you're a swimmer and the people from the tower were your coaches and teammates. Also explained why your body wouldn't be as slim as other girls, but it suited you.

You speak very little, each sentence was brief and straight to the point but you managed to keep the conversation didn't become awkward. And maybe that's made you a very good listener, always looking in his eyes and nodding to show him that you did pay attention and wanted him to continue. You reminded him of Simon but more mellow in your own way.

"You've got something needed answers?" You saw the timidness in John's glance, "Wouldn't ask if I felt uncomfortable, John" gesturing to him, urging him to speak.

"'s nothing, truly..… jus' notice you're truly courteous to others, can guarantee muppets your age don't behave like tha, 'specially towards women" John tried to clarify, not want you to misunderstand.

You stared at him for a moment, quite impressed with his observance. As a Task Force captain in the military, the way his body built and his look when talking to you were enough to understand.

"Wow Cap, you're really interesting" you teased him with a toothy smile.

"Childhood" you stopped, "And my mother has a very practical way to educate us, sometime it wouldn't bother me if anyone said I'm decrepit before my age" a small chuckle left your lips.

John's glance never left the side of your face, you two had more in common than he thought. Neither he nor you overshared your personal details but John could still guess a few things from your words. Us, you have siblings, childhood and mother, you don't mention 'father'.

“I can take it from here”

You broke the silence as you two reached the building. Carefully take the bags from John's hand, your cold fingers grazed the back of his warm one. You shivered and goosebumps rose as you felt an electric current run down your spine. Bite your inner cheek, it's shameless to admit by the thought of your body turning needy for his warmth. You wanted to hold those large hands and place them on your neck, your abdomen, your breasts and thighs. You want to feel his warm body heat against yours, for the first time you didn't hate your innate cold body temperature.

Quickly turned away without showing any suspicious expression, you only looked up when John blocked the entrance. He wouldn't let you slipped away easily like last time, most stupid mistake he've ever made.

"Mind if I want a repay?" John put his hands in his pockets and lowered his face at the same leveled of yours.

"My messy apartment ain't inviting for breakfast now, sir" your husky voice finished the sentence as softly as a whisper. You didn't step back, simply answered him with an honest voice, you're not afraid of eye contact either.

"Tell me your name, luvie"

That's not a demand. Silence, you blinked in confusion. This man, you thought, turned away and let out a laugh. You whipped back to face him with a defeated expression, shaking your head while telling him your name.

John repeated your name with an amused tone and it sounded so alluring by the way he said it. You both were engulfed in each other's eyes, neither wanted to break away from this moment. But before you could not pull yourself together and melt in front of him, you said your goodbye and slipped aside to enter the building. He did not stop you this time, just eyeing at the way your fluffy ass checks and thighs gently jiggled by each steps with a lustful gaze.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

John's two months on leave 've been much more lively thanks to you. Went out for a run every morning so he could pick you up from the gym, visiting your place when you invited him for a meal and of course, John also brought his booze as a thank you gift. The two of you opened up more to each other. Only then did John know that you were an extremely modest person and didn't like showing your emotions in front of people, it makes you felt like you're vulnerable. Gave him butterflies knowing he holds a special place to you because you felt safe sharing with him.

Likewise, your lonely days have ended ever since John appeared in your life, eating meals twice a week at your apartment has become casual to both of you. You started choosing cute dresses instead of sweats as usual, and always wear light lipstick to look more beautiful every time you’re with him. You also dug deeper about your family to John, that you did not experience fatherhood from a very young age and your mother is a strong woman. Making you, a much more independent and understanding big sister and daughter for your family. Sometime you joked with a higher pitch alcohol voice that every time you go to a pub, ladies are more attracted to you because the men around are such punks compared to you.

One more thing John discovered as you and him got closer was that he was at least 10 years older than you. Not that John couldn't tell your age, just sometimes the two of you were so immersed, which made him forget how young you were.

This night, the two of you were on the rooftop smoking together. John has a cigar and you smoke 'a bland cigarette', you could only laugh out loud every time he mocked with a grunt when you pulled the pack out of your pants' pocket. You both quietly enjoyed as the time slowly passed with each other.

"I've never tried cigars, dunno what they taste like" you gave him a playful glance

"Wanna try?"

John cocked his head at the cigar and held it towards you, you grabbed his wrist and brought it to your mouth to take a drag. You peaked at John, your eyes shot out a mischievous glint and you deliberately sunk your cheeks as you puffed on the burning cigar. The small flame glowed, making both of you feel an indescribable itch under your skin.

"Tastes milder than I thought" you answered John as you slowly exhaled smoke.

He looked at you silently, of course, John knew you're craving for John as much as he did but fuck, was this a wise decision? You're still young, still have a bright future waiting for you, you can't stick with an old man with a 'dirty' background and the dangerous work he's doing.

"John, I wanna ask you out for a date" you walked up to John's face and asked him directly, he'd felt the insecurity in your words. Your voice was a bit shaky and with that low tone, you sounded like a small animal that's scared or whining because it's wounded. Yes, John wanted to scream like that, he wanted to nip your skin and bite your juicy lower lip so bad but he just couldn't. He wouldn't

" 'm sorry sweet thing, this's not a smart choice"

Your lips thinned to a line, your eyes still glued to his beautiful blue orbs as if trying to find any glint might betray his words. None, nothing at all. You retreated from his private space and a small smile made it way to your sad face. Without a single tear, John knew your chest was tightening and you felt your nose sting but your pride wouldn't let you fall. You ain't an arrogant girl but you were confident in your position, and John understood. His eyes began to show contrasted signs, you understand that he turned you down not because he didn't feel the same to you. But still, you also didn't want to know the reason, you don't want to hear anything that might hurt you more now.

"The leave'll end tomorrow, right? Stay safe, Captain," you said your last sentences, sniffing and dropping the lit cigarette on the ground. You extinguished by stepping on it before swiftly passed him and disappeared through the rooftop door. You're always like this, running away when you're in your miserable stage. John didn't have the courage to follow you and made things right because he wasn't even sure what he wanted.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Nearly a month later that night, John returned to his apartment. Now that the season changes between spring and summer, the pouring rain could not be avoided. John parked his truck in the same place and went straight up to his apartment to get some sleep. When the helo landed on the tarmac, John sped up the briefing and dismissed the team as soon as possible so he could return to this suburban building. Yes, he could rest in his barrack on the Base, but he knew the reason that encouraged him to drive such a long road.

Waking up when the chatter on the TV disappeared, John reached up to the night stand to turn on his reading lamp, multiple clicking sounds hurted his ears but no light appeared. John grumbled as he got up and walked out to the living room. Through his apartment's balcony, John guessed that the area had lost power because of the heavy rain outside. Sitting down on the couches, the drowsiness has now disappeared, replaced in his mind by your images. Your smile, your voice, your eyes, everything about you is just so beautiful, and he missed you so so much. 

After showering, John changed into a compression shirt and put on a new pair of cargo pants , 'cause he knew you'd rather see him in uniform. Putting on his boots, John took your favorite cake that he bought before driving back to his apartment and headed down to your place.

John stood in front of your door, he felt nauseous, he didn't know how you'd react when you saw him. Ringing the doorbell, it took a while to hear your "Coming" along with the sound of footsteps getting closer to the door. The door opened, and you stood there with sleepy eyes and an adorable bedhead, you were wearing a tank top and loose pants.

"Welcome back" your eyes closed as you spoke up with a wide smile and a sleepy voice, John didn't need to admit that you sounded seductive because the bulge in his crotch has proof enough.

"I bought your fav, sweetheart" John held up the cake box and you looked at it for a moment then stood aside to let him in.

When you looked in his direction, even though the smile was still on your lips, your eyes looked distant, which made John feel more than horrible. You chose him to be your safe place but then he didn't know better than to ruin everything, now you treat him like you're just socializing with an outsider.

The bigger flops which you bought only for him now replaced his boots as he followed you into the living room. Sat down on the couches as you motioned him to, you turned to the kitchen to make some tea. John swore he saw your boobs' side and your ribs, your shoulder blades, and your skin was showing because you're not wearing a bra.

Returning with the tea tray and the zipper-hoodie covering your body, you placed the tray on the table and sat down on the couches which were neither far nor near John. A long silence formed and you had no intention of breaking it, honestly, you didn't know what to react or say.

The night you were rejected, you didn't cry but every single thing inside you was broken into pieces. You only had two exes and that was the result of two failed swimming championships. The pressure and strict diet made your nerves tense so sexual release is normal, for you. When you met John, shits changed, you weren't trying to find someone to take home on the weekend night anymore, head over heels just by the sight of him.

Your family lives far away from you, so everytime something positive changes, your friends and teammates are normally the first to notice.

Everything was great until that night, you wanted to hide but now John sat here, in your apartment, so conflicted.

"Listen luv, 'm sorry for hurting you" John waited for you to say something but you just sat still and stared at the mug in your hands, "I…'m not sure…I thought that it'd be better if someone your own age, not an old bastard like me, to court you out."

You snapped your eyes to John, which shut him up immediately. Cold and aggressive, a foolish accusation, as if they were trying to say. Placed the mug on the table, you stood up and walked in front of John. He looked up at you as you piled down your head to do the same. The room instantly froze as you two stared at each other, the Captain of an excellent Task Force looked so weak and useless under your daggers gaze. How submissive.

"You mean I should date a bunch of punks with towering egos and only use women as tools to satisfy their dicks, yeah?" you asked John in a low, emotionless voice. Just like everytime, your eyes never left his.

John's mouth was dry and he could barely swallow, his hands gripped his knees so tight that all knuckles turned white. You spread your legs, grabbed his wrists and placed his hands on your ass. Still maintaining that scary look, you could see that his cock might tear his pants apart from the eagerness.

"Or you think I'm not enough to find an older, more mature man for myself?" you raised an eyebrow and slowly sat down on John's thick thighs.

"Fuckin' 'ell, luv" John exhaled shakily and looked down to his pants, in a blink of an eye, you grabbed his chin and brought his gaze back to you.

"Avoid my eyes? Aren't I pitiful enough, John?" You frowned and brought your face closer to John. You could hear every pulse on his body beating loudly at this close distance.

His muscles tensed at your glassy-eyes look, he moved his hands away from your lower body. John wanted to cup your cheeks, he wanted to hold you close, buried your face into his chest as he comforted you until you were satisfied.

Not that easy.

You let go of his chin and caught his wrists with both of your hands. You folded and held them behind John's head, causing him to sink deeper and deeper into the couches beneath him. John was surprised by your actions, he almost forgot that you weren't fragile at all. Your faces were now just inches apart and he could feel every breath of yours against his lips.

"I don't remember giving you permission to move yet" and your grip tightened, his beautiful blue orbs pierced to your gaze in defeat.

You smirked and licked his lips, "Give me your tongue" you commanded.

A soldier like John didn't need to hear orders twice and immediately smashed his lips to yours hungrily. Tongues entwined, teeth clashing and he greedily bit your lower lip as if a predator had finally caught its prey. You let John go and moved to the hem of his shirt and peeled it over his head, your lips nibbling the skin of his neck as your hands roaming all over his torso. Hairy chest, broad shoulder blades, and bulky arms, your nose filled with the smell of burnt cigars and faded men's cologne. Milky scars made you even more infatuated with John, it was hard to believe the man in front of you was single. And John didn't move one bit. His eyes shut tight and his head tilted back, John's arms stayed put on his side as he enjoyed the tingling sensation of your soft lips and hands gliding over his skin. Leaving a few dark hickeys on that neck and manly chest, your hands went down to the bulge in John's crotch and began to knead gently, his cock twitching in your grip as you freed it from those tight pants.

"Fuck…please" John's head jerked back as your cool hand slid in and grasped his burning cock. His pupils flicking back and forth between the area between the two of you and your darken eyes.

"Speak up John, I can't read minds" stuck out your tongue and drooled on his cock. His precum and your drool created a mess down there, making the sticky sound even more lewd. What a tease, John thought, but it doesn't matter, he'd do whatever you want just for your forgiveness, not wanting to see your pain expression ever again.

"Please…luvie…please stroke it, please, I…need ya" John flustered as he saw your nipples harden at his pleas, his cock twitched in excitement at the mesmerized view.

You've never seen any cocks like his so far. But does it matter?, the man, no, your man is sitting right here, under your control, and desperately begging for your touch. You started to stroke him at a slow pace and gradually increased the speed with both hands, no exaggeration, John's length needed both of your hands to be considered enough. His breathing became more rapid and you knew he's close. Leaning forward and John doesn't hesitate to return your kindness, a low moan escaped his throat as he released onto your abdomen, his seed thick and hot made you horny like a bitch on heat. Your fingers delicately scraped the cum he had shot onto your stomach and brought it to your mouth, licking and sucking your fingers in the dirtiest way together with his taste.

"Can you take your shirt off for me, please" John gasped, "I wanna see those pretty tits"

You did as he said, your breasts bouncing as you took your shirt off. Lustful eyes staring at your nipples and John raised his calloused hands to held them. He fold one while the other was taken care of by his mouth, the man sucked and gently nipped your sensitive nipple, making you moan in pleasure.

"Y'know, I've dreamed about sucking these gorgeous tits for too long, darlin'" John gave you a devil grin before pinning you down on the sofa. You immediately covered your stretch marks on your lower belly plus your burning face but John smacked your ass check as a warning

"Oi, tryin' to enjoy my meal hear, eh?" John chuckled deeply as he clicked his tounge. You wanted to cry out so bad, you've never revel your body so bare like this to no one, ever. But John did not agree with such nonsense. He shut your stupid mind down by worshiping every inch of your body, his lips left marks on your plush stomach and hips. Seemed like you hadn't been to the gym lately, he noticed you looked softer compared to the last time he saw you. Moving down, John grabbed both your pants and panties, pulled them off and threw them in a random corner of the room. The man used one of his knees to shove your legs apart, revealing your pooling hot sex to his hungry eyes.

"Already so wet for me, eh?" John whispered as he placed loving kisses on your meaty inner thighs, the foreign sensation of his beard brushing against your sensitive skin sending pleasure down to your cunt, making your walls clenched eagerly. "Bet those pricks have never eaten you out, eh? Such idiots refuse a sweet thing like ya."

John buried his face between your legs, gently ran his tongue over your entrance and sensitive clit. Your body jolted every time he sucked or flicked his tongue against your clit, his two thick digits easily slid inside your cunt and you let out a loud moan at the sudden feeling of warmth inside you. Lightly grabbed John's hair as he held your thighs by his other arm and shoulder to keep them from closing, "That's it, sweetheart, use me like all you've ever wanted to" John mumbled, his tounge slid inside you causing his nose to rub against your sensitive clit. You sobbed in pleasure, your back arching to press your damped sex into John's mouth.

“Fuck….'m cumming, John” you whined, “Please…” and John quickened his pace, “C'mon, cum in my mouth, jus' like tha....Bloody 'ell, yeah, ride my tongue, c'mon luv, cum for me” he moaned and you felt the tight knot in your lower abdomen. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as the orgasm hit you and John didn't pull back when you came, his trimmed beard soaked from your slick and you blushed from that sight.

Leveled off your elbows to help yourself up, you wrapped one arm around the back of John's neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. It's tender, full of love, care and pure longing. Snaked his arms and held your back, he picked you up effortlessly and situated you hovering over his cock. You grabbed John's shoulder with one hand, the other held his cock directed to your entrance then slowly sat down. You both hissed when the tip of his cock slid inside, he's so big, too big, you felt like he could split you in half.

"You broken?" John glance filled with concern when your face frowns, you're so tight, if he couldn't get you to loosen up he might be squished to death. You let out a breathy laugh "I'd love a hand, Captain, if you don't mind", before trying to adjust to his size.

"Attagirl" John was amused as you finally took all of him, the feeling of your soft walls clenched around his shaft made him harder. Flexibility is also one of any athletes' standards, what a good fuckin' girl, John thought.

You began to move your hips up and down, nails leaving long scratches on John's muscular torso as your breasts pressed against his with each of your movements. The lustful noises from where you two attached and the way John held your waist and bit your collarbone made the pleasure inside you boil over and over again. The man knows that you wouldn't stop him from marking on your body even though your club would definitely buzz around because of these obvious love bites.

"You're taking me so gud, luv, this pussy's made for me, eh?"

You moaned as his tip violantly abused your cervix, too fucked out to give him a proper answer. John growled, his fingers gripping your waist to press your body down onto his cock.

"John, 'm close, cum with me…please cum with me" you pressed your face into the crook of his neck and mumbled. You pinched your red nipple and tortured your puffy clit, tears falling from your eyes in pleasure and overstimulation. Silent scream escaped you as just after a few more thrusts, John shot his warm seed inside you.

It took some shallow breaths, your sweaty frames unable to separate from each other, apparently from the lovemaking afterglow. John cupped your cheeks and pulled you back to face him, "I know ya need to be wooed 'fore allowing anybody to do this but…" you patiently waited for John to continue. "Ya free this Sunday, luvie?"

Your eyes sparked up and you gave him a soft giggle for his endearing self, John still waiting for your approval with amusement in his glance.

"Is Chinatown alright, Captain?" you asked playfully with a hoarse voice and the older man replied with obvious pleased chuckle, "Yes, ma'am".

[thatcatsalem]

lily of the autumn equinox; the web of curses

Pairing: Sukuna x OFC (Yuri)

Disclaimer: This particular piece is AU, where Sukuna is a sorcerer, Yuji’s older half-brother, and gotten his cursed energy from his mother.

Warning: Spiders, Strong Language, Canon Violence.

Summary: Sukuna calls her Higanbana which is Japanese flower of dark symbolism, and it means “flower of the autumn equinox”; Spider lily.

On a rainy day in Tokyo, when the world was busy condemning Russia for invading seaside city of Crimea in the power grab, Sukuna Itadori was having a coffee. It was a drip coffee, served in a dark black mug, and he begrudgingly had to admit that overpaying for this was somewhat worth it.

“Coffee here is sufficient,” noted Kento Nanami, finishing his sandwich, and Sukuna attempts to not roll his eyes. Sufficient either meant mediocre or truly phenomenal in Nanami’s case. Even though Nanami was often doing exasperated him, Sukuna could not complain - on his list of shittiest sorcerers, Nanami was not scoring too high. Leadership board right now belonged exclusively to Satoru.

He fucking deserved it.

Cup of coffee clutched in hand, Sukuna takes a tentative sip before glancing out the window. It’s a cold day. Thankfully, inside the small shop is warm from all the people and steam.

Yet Sukuna stills abruptly, shoulders tensing in agitation. He knows that he’s is being watched before turning his head around. Can feel the weight of sharp eyes, and how the space between him and danger grows smaller, and he notices a woman gliding towards them.

“Morning gentlemen,” she acknowledges them politely, hands clasped behind her back, “Nanami, you looking sharp,” she beds over and leaves a kiss on sorcerer cheek. Sukuna cannot explain why he felt a flare of genuine envy but one look at his senpai makes him take that thought back. Nanami is always stoic and rarely shows any sign of fear or discomfort, but for a section of a second it was clear that he was unnerved by the presence of the woman.

She looks directly at Sukuna, unblinking and unnerving. At the moment in time, stars have aligned perfectly, creating an absolute point.

Under no circumstances was Sukuna Itadori to be considered soft. He is intimidating, mean and outright bully, unless, of course, you ask his younger brother who would die on the hill of “he just needs warning up to!”. He is incredibly powerful for someone quite young, and prides himself to be a master of combat. And for someone so terrifying, he is absolutely embarrassed to admit that for the first time since his puberty he is speechless at the sight of girl.

She is stood by the table, tight black dress hugging her pale body as a glove, sleeves almost covering dark nails, sharp like claws. She definitely was not purebred Japanese, as it was obvious by her porcelain features that she was most likely a foreigner if not a migrant.

“Kumo-san,” Nanami stands and bows in greeting, yet she doesn’t reciprocate, only sits down on the vacant chair, picking up dust from her dress. She is wearing heels and she has metal spiders hanging from her ears. Now to think about it, she had impressive amount of rigs on her fingers, most of which resembled some form of a skull, spider or something equally creepy.

Sukuna never felt remorse for killing a spider, but something told him that kind of behaviour won’t fly past her.

“This is Sukuna Itadori, semi-grade 1 sorcerer; he is accompanying me on this mission today,” introduces him Nanami, and Sukuna makes no movement towards shaking hands or bowing, only staring the woman down. She is not an easy person to intimidate, and he finds that incredibly annoying.

“Nice to meet you,” she says in perfect Japanese, but she does have a slight accent that hinted that it was not her first language. She has piercing in her nose that she was able to hide masterfully, and Sukuna could see outline of a tattoo on her collarbones and was immediately intrigued. It wasn’t such a big deal for a foreigner to have tattoos but it still was rare sight in Japan.

“I have heard of you, Sukuna Itadori,” she says with slight tilt of her head, “Rumours say that you have been on the streets killing curses since you were barely twelve.”

She does not break the eye contact.

“I expected a more menacing presence, I confess.”

“I can show you menacing.”

She irks an eyebrow, malicious mirth in her face.

“Oh yeah?”

He doesn’t respond. Jaw setting, he glares at her. She returns the frigid stare with burning dark eyes. Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Itadori-san,” there is underlaying warning in his tone, “please show Kumo-san your outmost respect. She is a powerful sorceress, and is also semi-grade 1.”

“No need for flattery,” scolds him Kumo-san, finding her coffee more interesting than either of the men, “but it’s now grade one sorceress, if you must.”

Sukuna thinks that he would like nothing more than to see that smirk disappearing off her face.