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hexlenx · 3 months ago

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And second request!(well technically third but still, hhihihi-) Once more, army badass aloof fem reader but this time attending the ball where Vronsky meets Anna. She dances with Anna and is slightly interested in her, but Anna of course is interested in Vronsky, only for surprise surprises, Vronsky is interested in the reader! All of this of course still being a reader x Vronsky if it makes sense, i just found the idea a bit silly if the reader is mainly army oriented and rarely enjoys herself such as attending balls and Vronsky finds this as a perfect opportunity to attempt to spend more time with her under the guise of simple officers chatting together while of course he puts on his best charm, only for her to be already dancing with Anna. Bonus points if reader ends up introducing Anna to Vronsky or something. Also reader slightly oblivious. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long to post, love. I was trying to fit the scenes together because I wanted the image(how the scenes look in the imagination as well as the emotion in the words.) to look good together. It was a challenge because we all know that Vronsky is a very strong character and Anna is also a complicated person to write about in my words because she gets carried away by her emotions often, right? I do hope you like this one and I'm really grateful that you trust me in making your ideas come true with writing!! Make more requests if you have any more ideas you'd like me to write about, I love a challenge!

MY GAZE IS FIXED ON YOU AND ONLY YOU — alexei vronsky

note: as usual I do not own any of the characters and the plot is from our lovely requestor @petalsbloom ! I am only the writer for their amazing ideas!

warnings!: none other than alexei being hot fr.

__________________

You have always hated parties, specifically balls. You just didn't understand why they should hold a type of party like this just to dance and mingle with the nobles. It was deemed unnecessary for you, well perhaps it's because you are a general that you have no such need for something like this.

Being a general has its perks, having connections already made from the army, even with the most notorious noble House of Russia, the Dukedom. It made you feared, admired, wanted and most of all, powerful. It is no surprise that you wanted that power, though you remained humble and modest about it. Power is a big responsibility and you wanted it, now that you have it, you are satisfied.

At least until your gaze was swept away by something you've never thought would leave you unsatisfied with your standing.

The ballroom was filled with the voices of nobles and soldiers alike who wanted to create connections as well as to mingle for the night. You were beside a pillar to the east side of the room, standing quietly as you leaned against the pillar with a wine in hand.

Unlike the young noble ladies in the ball, you were wearing a formal dress that looked like what the men were wearing. Navy robes that look that of a royal, fitted pants with the same air of colors and golden buttons as well as accents to finish the beautiful and manly outfit that fitted your curves. It is not ideal for a woman in the society but they cannot deny you looked devilishly good looking. Your hair, though, was in a low ponytail to fit your look and your face naturally free from makeup as you looked beautifully without it.

You were bored, very bored. It was your first time in attending a ball as you've rejected it multiple times before becoming curious onto seeing what it felt like being in one. Your curiosity killed you, with boredom.

You sipped on the cold wine in your hand as you looked around in a daze, you were looking for a time to escape but something passed by your sight, causing you to follow it.

A woman, beautiful, enticing and seductive walked from your sight. She was dressed in a black gown, contrasting the bright colors around you. It hugged her figure, curves highlighted from the corset tied against her waist, shoulders peeked out with no dress sleeves making you see her shoulder blades from the back, it enticed you, intrigued you.

Your eyes followed her figure as you sipped from your wine once again, not daring to look away, afraid that you will lose sight of her when you do. The woman stopped in front of the Princess of the night, Princess Kitty, the one debuting along with other noble ladies. She seemed to be close with the princess and pushed said princess lightly towards a man dressed in white that fitted his figure nicely. It was Count Vronsky, a fellow general in the army.

But you had your gaze fixed on the woman who caught your interest to even notice the intense gaze of a pair of ocean blue eyes that belonged to a certain Count.

The moment the Princess went to dance with the Count who seemed to be a bit in disdain as he elegantly moved the practiced choreo for the ball, you began your way to the woman who watched by the entrance of the ball. She was watching the pair in a bit of sadness, wishing it was her dancing with the man, not that you knew.

Clearing your throat the moment you were beside her, you took her hand and kissed the back of it while putting your gaze onto hers intensely, not pulling away for a second when she finally noticed you. The gaze of yours made her flustered but her mind was reminded of a certain ocean eyed man's gaze when you did the action.

"May I have this dance, M'lady?" You uttered out to her in a husky manner as you were entranced by her beauty. Not trusting her voice, the woman nodded and with that you swept her away from the entrance and into the ballroom.

To you, it felt like a dream, it felt like it was only the two of you dancing in the middle of an empty ballroom. Something you have never felt before and it made you feel warmth, your heartbeat steadily beating faster than normal as you lifted the enticing woman up before slowly letting her down. Eyes locking intensely as your chests were held closely together, faces inches away, lips almost locking as you stared into her dark brown eyes. It was a fantasy come true that you didn't even dream of having.

But sadly without you noticing, the woman was only looking at a certain Count dancing with the Princess who looked heartbroken when she saw the gazes of her partner and yours locking as if in a trance. What the princess didn't know was that, the Count wasn't looking at her friend, but on you. He was clenching his teeth behind his closed jaw, jealousy running through his veins as he saw how closely you were with the woman.

How he hated you being with someone else entirely from him.

Alexei didn't really want to attend this ball as he'd rather be in his home or perhaps with you, if he found you. That is until he heard from a colleague of his that you were attending the debutante ball for the Princess. That's how he ended up talking with the other generals in one spot of the room. His ears listening to the chatter but his mind and eyes going elsewhere, he was trying to find you.

Taking a sip from his drink, he bid the men goodbye before walking around the sides of the room to find where you are. Nodding towards other nobles who greeted him, shaking hands with the men, he was annoyed but he didn't show it on his face as he smiled politely towards the people who blocked his path now and then.

A flash of navy from the other side of the room caught his eye and he saw you, walking like the queen you are, his eyes taking in your appearance, the curves highlighted by your fitted outfit, the way it hugged your waist, your hips swaying as you walked and—Alexei bit his lip to stop himself from groaning in such a public setting, his eyes settled down onto your thighs that seemed too thick for the tight pants you wore. He always had a thing for those but only for you.

He saw you walking towards the entrance where a woman in black and the Princess were busy talking to each other. He quickly moved his feet towards the location, stopping only a couple of meters away from the Princess before he got called by said Princess, who turned around when the woman in black tilted her head towards behind her.

"Oh, Count Vronsky! How is your night?" Princess Kitty greeted the blond man who clicked his tongue silently from being interrupted. He masked his disdain and proceeded to take the Princess' hand and kissed the back of it to show respect. It was obvious that this young woman wanted him to court her and he couldn't reject her in front of a large audience as she was a Princess, disrespecting her right now would mean treason for the Royals.

"Your Highness, you look lovely today and I quite enjoy the bustle of today's ball with you as the center of it." He compliments the Princess who was oblivious to the sarcasm in his words, not that it was obvious but his eyes held that word as it crinkled in irritation but it looked as if he was flirting with the young Princess.

Years of practice, I suppose.

Knowing what this would lead to, he offered a dance for the Princess who joyfully accepted his proposal thinking he was interested in her, which sadly he was not. His eyes locked briefly with the woman behind her before sweeping across the floor with the Princess.

Throughout the dance, he was bored and irritated but his mask was perfectly worn as the Princess successfully remained oblivious to such disdain. The dance was about to end and he was planning on asking you to a dance after.

But as he moved his finishing steps, he saw you, with a woman, the one the Princess was talking to, the woman who wore a black dress that contrasted the bright colors of the gowns around them, that woman.

Jealousy build up in his veins as he slowly came to stop as he watched the both of you. The way you looked at woman made his eye twitch in anger, it should be him. It should only be him.

As he kept watching, he didn't notice that he stopped dancing and the Princess looking heartbroken by the sight in front of her. She didn't know that he was looking at you as your back was turned against her and she could only see her friend, Anna Karenina. Jealousy and sadness filled her as she looked back and forth from Alexei to Anna, it looked like they were both entranced with each other but in truth, Alexei had his gaze stuck on the female general's back.

Breathing in heavily, Kitty slowly walked away from the Count who didn't even notice her. This just proved that he will never belong to her, not when his gaze was filled with admiration and infatuation on another woman that is not her.

Alexei continued to watch you dance with that woman, jaw clenching in disdain. You looked like you were in a daze and when you and your partner finished the dance with your bodies so close to each other, he snapped and walked away.

You didn't notice it as your gaze was fixed on the woman in front of you who smiled at you after thanking you for the dance before walking away to the same direction Alexei went. As you stood in the middle of the ballroom you thought.

I'm going to make her mine, just you wait.

But what you didn't know was that a certain Count thought of the same thing but his declaration was not directed towards the woman in black, but to you.

#aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #alexei vronsky x reader #alexei vronsky #count vronsky x reader #anna karenina #anna karenina x reader #alexei vronsky x you #alexei vronsky x y/n

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malk1ns · 1 month ago

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january 9 vs oilers, 5-3 win

i started writing this before the game even started because i found geno getting put through his paces inspirational.

Sid isn’t supposed to be here, but it didn’t take a lot of sweet-talking for the training staff to let him down the tunnel towards the ice. He had to look Kevin in the eyes and promise that he wouldn’t so much as step out onto the bench, but the practice facility has been abuzz for days over Malkin’s arrival, and Sid, arguably the person most impacted by his presence in Pittsburgh, hasn’t even gotten to see him from a distance, let alone smell him.

Not that it really matters. Their pheromone profiles are a near-perfect match, Sid’s gone over the files himself. Malkin’s a little older than the organization might have preferred to stud their prized omega, but he’s got a resume and a pedigree, a track record of producing talented offspring, and when he was made available internationally the Penguins jumped to offer an enormous compensation package to bring him to Pittsburgh. If Sid ends up having some objection to Malkin’s scent, he’s going to have to get over it.

Watching Malkin on the ice, though, Sid doesn’t think it’ll be a problem.

He creeps a little further down the tunnel, still hanging back from the bench so as to not get in trouble for getting too close, but he can’t resist improving his view.

The coaches are watching Malkin run through a set of conditioning drills, and Sid knows that up above him most of management is watching from the balconies. He spotted the dynamics team heading that way with binders and clipboards earlier.

Malkin’s not the fastest guy from what Sid can see; when he was younger, closer to the age Sid is now, he had a bit more footspeed, but it’s evident from the drills he’s lost a step there. His edgework is insane, though, and the way he handles the puck has Sid craning his neck to try and get a better look.

They’ve got Chiasson in goal, and when Malkin dekes him out of his net and slips the puck behind him like it’s nothing, Sid has to hold back a cheer.

He must make some noise though, or maybe he’s drifted too close to the ice, because Malkin’s head snaps up.

Sid shrinks back down the tunnel before anyone can catch him, heart pounding as he escapes back towards the locker room. Malkin’s probably going to be done with drills soon anyway.

The trainers pull him into an exam room to poke at his wrist, and then Dr. Vyas wants to see him for a blood draw to assess his hormone levels, and by the time Sid finally escapes he’s starving, so he ducks into the lounge to poke around for leftovers before going home.

He’s bent over rummaging through the refrigerator when the smell of pine fills the room.

Sid’s nostrils flare as he stands up and shuts the fridge. The smell is strong, almost enough to sting his nose, but it’s good, like the forest around his lake back home. Nobody on the team smells like that.

Malkin is standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Shit,” Sid says, looking around the empty room. The staff probably figured he was long gone; if they knew he was still in the building, Malkin wouldn’t be anywhere without a chaperone.

“Hi,” Malkin says, stepping into the lounge. His voice is deep and raspy, like he’s tired. Sid wonders if he’s still jetlagged; from what he’s heard, they practically had to smuggle him out of Russia even with the transfer agreement to bring him here in place. “Not think you’re still here, sorry.” His English is better than Sid expected, which is maybe unfair; plenty of North American guys are playing in the K these days, and Malkin’s been captain of his team for almost two decades.

“It’s alright,” Sid says. As Malkin gets closer, the hair on the back of his neck stands up. “Uh…I probably should go, I don’t think they want us alone yet.”

“Hmm,” Malkin says, closing the final distance between them as Sid backs into the counter along the wall. “Too late, yes? We here now, alone.”

He’s so much taller than Sid, who stands frozen as Malkin bends down. Up close, the smell is almost overwhelming, and Sid’s eyelids flutter as Malkin inhales next to his neck.

“Sweet,” Malkin mutters, and Sid’s face goes hot. He’s heard it before, that he smells like cake, like sugar; it’s been too much for some of his teammates before, and none of them usually get this close to him when he’s not wearing a blocker like he does during games and practices.

“Sorry,” Sid says inanely, and Malkin lets out an amused huff, reaching out and cupping his hand over the side of Sid’s neck.

Sid nearly swoons at the unexpected contact. Malkin’s hand is huge and warm, and when their skin touches the pine-scent spikes, soporific and enticing.

“Sweet is good,” he croons, running his thumb under Sid’s chin, skirting over the scent glands there and making Sid moan embarrassingly at the sensation. “Smell like you’re taste good too.”

Sid’s never been touched like this. He’s hooked up plenty, but only with betas or other omegas. Even though he’s done his share of looking at alphas in bars, the language in his contract is clear, and Sid wasn’t about to risk a breach for a night of fun. And only alphas have this sort of effect on omegas.

“You like?” Malkin asks, like the answer isn’t obvious by the way Sid’s scent is rising and his body is instinctively going pliant and soft. “Yes, good, it’s good you like. We have nice time, I think.”

The way he’s playing with Sid’s scent glands is making Sid slick up. He can feel it, and he’s sure Malkin can smell it. Sid didn’t read more than the first page of Malkin’s stud file, but maybe he should have; Malkin is experienced, and Sid is totally out of his depth.

“Lyubimyy,” Malkin practically purrs, bringing his other hand to Sid’s waist. “So sweet for me, I can tell. Sweet boy. You’re not do before, I know this—don’t worry, I take good care of you.”

When he steps back, Sid sways towards him before he can help himself, making a bereft little sound. Malkin laughs, but it’s not mean—he sounds delighted, like Sid did something to please him.

Sid badly, badly wants to please him.

“I do too much,” Malkin says, regret coloring his voice. Sid wants to shake his head in denial, but he’s so stuck under the scent and the lingering effect of Malkin’s hands on him that he can’t do much more than stare up at Malkin with wide eyes.

“Sorry, sweet boy, I’m not mean to push. You’re just smell so nice, can’t help it.” Malkin takes a pointed inhale, and Sid watches as his eyes go dark. “I go now. You go clean up, go home—we see each other soon.”

Sid watches him leave. It’s only when he’s further down the hallway and his scent starts to recede that Sid feels like he can move again.

He jerks off in the bathroom, biting his fist to keep from making too much noise. When he closes his eyes, he can feel Malkin’s fingers on his throat, a phantom touch that pushes him over the edge faster than since he was a teenager.

The drive home is a daze. Sid’s not sure how he’s going to make it through their games this weekend, now that he knows what’s waiting for him on the other side.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic #24-25 series #stud geno

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pricegouge · 2 months ago

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Idk how you feel about A/B/O but Alpha!Nik and his Omega!daughter. Still on my Princess in a tower bullshit because how else would he keep her safe from all those other alphas except by keeping her locked away in rural Russia.

He comes to visit and is immediately hit with the smell of her heat, which she is supposed to be taken suppressors for. He finds her in her nest in her bedroom just naked and sweaty and writhing. She’s in a puddle of her own slick and a hand between her legs but it’s not working. He can’t stand to see his malyshka in pain.

Nik offers his hand and she about rips it off. So know he’s in the nest with her and she’s delirious, humping his leg, crying and begging for him to knot her because it’s all just too much. He’s trying to scent her to calm her down but it’s just riling her up more. Nik is trying to be strong but his pupils are blown, cock hard and he’s near drooling over the smell of her soaked cunt.

It’d be fine as long as he doesn’t mate her, right?

-🗡️, who woke up with this vision from the devil

i'm not big into omegaverse, but neglected omega does tend to grab my attention

[vaguely related]

poor thing, left to face your heat all alone :( rationally, you know it's no one's fault because you were taking suppressants, but you can't help blaming him when you can feel it creeping up on you. he should've known they wouldn't work forever. you should've known.

you smell him coming before you see him - crashing through the door, reeking of sweat and dirt and horse. it should disgust you, but it only drives you more wild, his natural scent the only alpha musk you've ever known. he lets you bury yourself in his neck, rooting out the source of his scent while breathing open mouth and humid against his skin. it only works for a minute before you're pawing at him again, trying to shove away the layers that separate you from the warm expanse of skin you want to feel flush against your own.

"it hurts, papa," you whine, pulling at his hands to get him impossibly closer because you don't realize how tightly intertwined you already are until you're looking up at him, big puppy dog eyes, and asking, "won't you make it better?"

~*~

nik's just a man. can't help himself when you're straddling his lap, soaked cunt rubbing against his belly until your juices mat the hair there, stain him with your scent.

he's never reacted this way to an omega's smell before. not even the professional ones he was sometimes given while rutting in the field. he thinks maybe it's the nest, the fact you've made it of just as much his stuff as you have your own. he tries telling himself it's because you didn't have much of a choice, but then you're tonguing at his sensitive scent gland and he knows. knows what he's done, too, keeping you all locked away.

it'll be fine. he'll help you just this once and then he'll set you up with a nice match. maybe a beta. someone who will keep you on a tight suppressant regiment so he never has to risk this again. never has to test his limit, trying to ignore your scent. the way you beg for his knot.

he won't give it to. will stop just short. at least, that's what he tells himself when he helps you sink down onto him, tight cunt spasming as you try to take him too fast. his hands are like manacles on your hips, bruising with the tight grip he tries to keep on both your controls. you whine and cry anyway, upset you can't take him to the root. upset much it hurts even just to take him as much as you already have. he soothes you anyway, tongue flat against your virgin scent gland as he huffs sweet words against your skin. telling you how well you're doing, what a good little omega you're being. you preen each time, cunt spasming. happy to please.

his resolve finally shakes apart when he's given you every inch; thumbing away your tears as you keep babbling, begging for more. he just can't stand to see you like this, not when he knows what you need. so hush now, printsessa, papa will make it better. just stop whining and take it.

#incest cw #omegaverse cw #dubcon cw #gouge answers #🗡️ anon #papochka #nik cod x reader #nikolai cod x reader

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matan4il · 11 months ago

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Ahead of Eurovision 2024

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

youtube

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)

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deangirlsstuff67 · 2 years ago

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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

#soldier boy #the boys tv #jensen ackles #soldier boy smut #the boys smut #the boys s3 #the boys season 3 #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys fanfic

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klett161 · 2 years ago

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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!

#anarcho socialism #classwar #tankies #marxist leninist #leftist #leftism #leftist infighting #anarchism #socialism #reddit migration #reddit migrants #lgbtq rights #genocide #imperialism #anti imperialist #ukraine

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city-of-ladies · 4 months ago

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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

#history #women in history #women's history #historyedit #16th century #warrior women #warrior queens #soyembika #khanate of kazan #tatar history #russia #russian history #queens #historyblr

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daughterofcain-67 · 1 year ago

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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

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy jensen #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #jensen the boys #the boys #the boys amazon #jensen ackles the boys

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bellaluvsmakarov · 4 months ago

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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.

#nikto x reader #call of duty nikto #cod nikto #mwii nikto #nikto #ilovenikto

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kksverse · 2 years ago

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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.

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.

#könig x reader #cod ghost fluff #ghost #simon riley x reader #koing x reader #sharing body heat #pure fluff #cold #call of duty #john soap mactavish #price #original character

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patriottruth · 3 months ago

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If anyone is wondering, donald j. trump's self-destruction has been guaranteed since he stole the 2016 election from Hillary Clinton. And even if he somehow actually won 2024 by 3 million votes, he still doesn't get to be President of the United States. Hillary Clinton, and the whole world, is going to laugh SO HARD at Dumb donald Chump! I certainly am!

Train - Calling All Angels

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SAINTE - If You Ever Feel Alone

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Bible/TANAKH Study: 11/6/2024: 02:50 AM EST: When asking about why and if the Abrahamic G-d gave the United States and the world over to donald trump and his global dictator allies: TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 56 Genesis 26:13 And the Lord was standing beside him and He said, "I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac: The ground on which you are lying I will assign to you and to your offspring.

So let's gather together and speak how trump failed in this tremendously joyous holiday tale.

It began with Russia and Clinton's e-mails; and a Stormy affair that could send him to jail.

He stole it from Hillary, who won by three million; and now he salutes his J6ers in prison.

He thought MAGA SCOTUS forgave his insurrection, but missed that 3 judges actually fact-checked him.

He's appointing his cabinet like they're so inevitable; no compass of morals amidst those deplorables.

And just like with Thanos, we have this one chance; 'cause nothing is going to orange Thanos' plans.

He'll be like the Witch King from The Lord of the Rings when the truth is revealed on twelve seventeen.

And the President of the Senate unleashes her laugh as Kamala exclaims, "I AM NO MAN!,"

And just for orange Thanos, screamed in ALL CAPS, "ENJOY PRISON!," and "AUF WIEDERSEHEN, MY FRIEND!"

The Lord of the Rings - The End of the Witch King

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Sara Bareilles - King of Anything

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Lonestar - No News

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donald trump 312 electoral votes Republican Party 76,067,942 votes (50.2%)

Berean Strong's Lexicon #312 acher: Other, another, different; hinder, "to be behind" or "to delay." Original Word: אַחֵר

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 964 Isaiah 50:2 Why, when I came, was no one there, Why, when I called, would none respond? Is my arm, then, too short to rescue, Have I not the power to save? With a mere rebuke I dry up the sea, And turn rivers into desert. Their fish stink from lack of water; They lie dead of thirst.

Kamala Harris 226 electoral votes Democratic Party 73,134,247 votes (48.2%)

Berean Strong's Lexicon #226 oth: Sign, token, mark, miracle, a signal, as a, flag, beacon, monument, omen, prodigy, evidence of God's intervention or presence. Original Word: אוֹת

TANAKH (Jewish Publication Society, Hebrew-English) Page 1469 Psalm 48:2 The Lord is great and much acclaimed in the city of our God, His holy mountain-- Psalm 48:3 fair-crested, joy of all the earth, Mount Zion, summit of Zaphon, city of the great king.

Clinton total fundraising 2016 election cycle: $769,879,088 Clinton total spending 2016 election cycle: $768,577,907 Clinton 2016 election votes: 65,853,514 Average Clinton voter 2016 presidential campaign donation: $11.69

trump total fundraising 2016 election cycle: $433,392,727 trump total spending 2016 election cycle: $422,620,473 2016 Republican Primary Voters: 31,047,313 trump 2016 election votes: 62,984,828 (202.89% 2016 national election turnout) Average trump voter 2016 presidential campaign donation: $6.88

Hillary Clinton's 2016 fundraising was 156% higher than donald trump's and she won the election by roughly 3,000,000 American votes.

Biden total fundraising 2020 election cycle: $1,624,301,628 Biden total spending 2020 election cycle: $1,614,843,740 Biden 2020 election votes: 81,283,501 Average Biden voter 2020 presidential campaign donation: $19.98

trump total fundraising 2020 election cycle: $1,087,909,269 trump total spending 2020 election cycle: $1,090,633,916 2020 Republican Primary Voters: 18,900,288 trump 2020 election votes: 74,223,975 (392.71% 2020 national election turnout) Average trump voter 2020 presidential campaign donation: $14.69

Joe Biden's 2020 fundraising was 167% higher than donald trump's and he won the election by an easy landslide victory and American patriots mandate of roughly 7,000,000 American votes.

Harris total fundraising 2024 election cycle: $1,048,224,950 9/22/2024 Harris total spending 2024 election cycle: $728,659,506 9/22/2024 Harris cash on hand 2024 election cycle: $364,537,369 9/22/2024

trump total fundraising 2024 election cycle: $802,832,560 9/22/2024 trump total spending 2024 election cycle: $603,161,559 9/22/2024 trump cash on hand 2024 election cycle: $264,091,834 9/22/2024 2024 Republican Primary Voters: 22,264,875

Kamala Harris's 2024 fundraising is 177% higher than donald trump's, her rallies are far larger and more energized, and her Fox News ratings are 2.5 times better than donald trump's.

No Doubt - Just A Girl

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The moral of this story is this: there's a real chance that donald trump stealing the 2016 election from Hillary Clinton can come back to be the biggest curse of his life.

I don't know if we can even trust the election count due to donald trump stealing 2016 and attempting to steal 2020, but I'm fine with donald trump leading Kamala Harris by 3,000,000 votes; because now he'll get to see what it feels like to win by 3,000,000 and STILL lose the Presidency he needed to save his life and fortunes.

It's perfect justice; some might call it Karma! I'm calling it a most joyous and hillarious happy ending to one of the best holiday stories ever told in American history.

Sam and Dave - Hold On, I'm Coming

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Playing For Change - Three Little Birds

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mrs-stans · 4 months ago

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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.

#Sebastian Stan #Jeremy Strong #Ali Abbasi #The Apprentice #Interview #New York Times #mrs-stans

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yeetmyboi · 4 months ago

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

a/n: MDNI pls. ghostxreader. collage by me, i don’t own the images. 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.

#yeets writing ✍️#call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #sr #ghostie boi #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fandom #Don’t feed a stray if you don’t intend to keep it #x reader #x y/n

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goldsbitch · 18 days ago

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Twelve Grapes

-chapter 6 - Curious

Crossed lines and grape wars - Max and Charles are far from experts at keeping things casual, especially when their words and feelings start to blur.

Or - kids, don’t lie about being prepped.

word count: 7k warning: NSFW, minors DNI, m/m, anal, first time

They’re both speaking with different people. Standing back to back, next to each other. It’s a post Sochi race after party. They’re all embarking to Japan tomorrow, the teams are used to traveling with a hangover. They’re talking to other people to keep the notion that they’re not the best of friends.

But Max’s thumb is tangled into Charles’ index finger and just how everybody manages to miss it is a mystery. The bar is packed, but not that packed.

Still, it works. Secret is kept. They both have things to celebrate. Sochi has been somewhat kind to them so far.

"I think I’ll go home," Charles says apologetically and gives his goodbyes to few of the friends nearby, loudly enough for Max to hear. There is just one brief look shared and Charles hopes the blue eyed devil understands.

He apparently does, as he excuses himself to go the bathroom, but bolts instead. Charles is waiting on him for barely two minutes.

There’s no need for a taxi, Charles’ hotel room is just around the corner. It takes him all self-control he has not kiss Max in the dark spots in between the beams of old street lamps. Luckily, he is successful. Any witness would easily believe that this is just two mates walking home from a bar.

The elevator has seen many forbidden kisses, but Charles tries to compete with each and every one of them. After all, who can blame him. It’s been so long since their brief pecks in Singapore. Let’s blame the cocktails and not dive deep into it. Not now, he is busy. He’s had to keep it together through all the times they accidentally crossed in the paddock. He recalls it all, the clandestine moments from this past week. Max's knee, that did not move away when they sat next to each other at driver’s briefing. The numerous times Max reached for his upper arm. Casual gestures that linger longer than needed. Meanings sawn into looks that piece directly into his soul. Sometimes he has to be the first one to avert his gaze, because it must be obvious to anyone with two eyes and a brain. The fact they’re in Russia making it all that much dangerous to risk getting caught. Lust like theirs leads to ugly troubles in this country.

But the bed won’t spill their secret.

Blinds shut down make it almost seem like they’re back home. He knows he is too vulnerable for this all. When he dares to look at himself in a mirror, he can see how deeply in troubles he’s falling. But, Charles gives into it all tonight - momentarily shutting down the fear he is creating something out of nothing. Max is braver than ever with his kisses. Like he forgot to put on his coat of inhibition. He is cheeky, flirty and gives Charles no chance to resist his charm. The plain-spoken, the glorious, the allurious Max. Charles is nervous, the good end of the spectrum of this emotion. There is no fear that Max does not want to end up entangled with him tonight, his actions speaking even louder than his blunt words, which don't leave much room for doubt anyway. Charles blames the small amount of alcohol in his blood stream once again, as he admires Max's body with his eyes closed. Hands roaming around his toned torso, lean shoulders, strong neck and firm arms. It's an obsession, Charles starts to fear. All the men he touched before in this way were of softer body nature, which at the time he found endearing. But the icy look Max gives him just before he kisses him is ten times more effective when his body embraces him. And when he lets him explore his, making Charles feel like he is allowed to explore someone who came directly from a Renaissance sculpture model sitting. Max has some sort of notion of timelessness around him. It all gets enhanced even more when he is stripped of things like team wear, merch or the skinny jeans.

Charles lets his lips drift along Max's jawline, his touch lacking hesitance and screaming eager, like he’s learning a foreign language through touch alone. The warmth between them is matched only by the cool air in the room, the kind of contrast that pulls them closer, almost involuntarily. Max is different tonight, more forward, sure of himself. His dominant nature peaking through and it makes it all that much exciting for Charles. It's a journey and this one is an especially hot one.

He's the one lying on the bed now, while Max works his way around his body. He bites his lips and scratches his abs. Please, don't build my hopes up and leave me stranded.

Charles has noticed early on in his sexual endeavoars that he can read into touch and the whole language of it more than a regular person. He's tuned into the other the most when they have their mouths full and can't even speak. There's the rhythm, the enthusiasm in the way how fingers trace a body. So much to be said with a kiss. Moans to be listened to while creating small bruises on the other person. Max is all over him. His dick has been up ever since Charles stripped him of his jeans.

Max's got him pinned down, one hand holding his hands above his head and the other exploring. Right now, Max's hand is just about to touch his dick for the first time tonight. Max is a natural tease, as Charles is beginning to find out. He puts his finger at the hem of his boxers, tracing him up from the thigh and - stops right when he's about to touch him. Then he abandons the move and chuckles as Charles groans annoyed to the heavens.

"Max!...Come on, mate" he whines out and tries to get out of his grip. He fights back, holding him in his place. The joking manner in his face is gone as he hovers over him, hand now holding Charles's neck. Eyes challenging each other.

Max grips Charles's neck with a force he has not used with him before. His jaw is tense and the unbelievable, luscious lips hanging open. "You call me mate in bed one more time and we're getting something to tie you up shut," He speaks coldly, in the best way possible. "Understand?" This sends shivers all over Charles's body and somehow they all end up in his dick. Oh, he wants to get fucked - or fuck, whichever - this man so much. The cocky, annoying hot piece of a mess. His hair is sticking in all places after Charles worked on destroying his haircut back in the elevator and he must admit, this is the hairstyle he prefers the most on him. Max squeezes just a little too close to Charles' Adam's apple and a small breath gets caught in. Max notices immediately and back off all of his moves. He lifts up, observing Charles like he just accidentally punched him dead. The mood shifts instantly, losing the electric charge, but keeping the intimacy.

"I'm sorry-" he starts, but is quickly interrupted.

"No worries," Charles gestures, letting out a little cough, but based on Max's face, this won't cover it.

Charles lifts himself up on his elbows. He takes a breath in, to get himself in the right headspace, because the only thing he truly wants to do now is get pinned down again. "There's this simple system - you're gonna love it, it involves talking," he can't help but poke at him. "It's the traffic lights. If you start feeling like things are getting out of hand, you're not sure if your partner is ok with what's happening, just ask what color they feel like - green is obvious, orange is a signal that one of the two is reaching their limit and red one is a clear stop all action. And if you feel like it's too much, just say the color."

When he stops, he wonders whether he's gonna get sarcastic comment about his sudden lecture in a topic he might already be an expert at, but Max seems content with it. His face and body relax again. He does not question this and it does look like this system is just being introduced to him. He takes a beat before he speaks again. "You do realize the irony of color red being the color to stop-" his words get caught in his mouth as Charles puts three fingers into his mouth to stop him from talking. Of course, Max is in a cheeky mood tonight. Charles shakes his head and squeezes his dick, Max's body giving immediately away this move marks a turning point in their conversation.

"What was that?" he teases as he moves his hand under Max's boxers and touches him skin on skin. His eyes looking at him, knowing well enough that Max is not about to continue his stupid jokes when he has him like that. His dick is nice and hard, so nice to hold.

Max sucks on his fingers without a blink of an eye, before moving his back to release them from him mouth with a pop. "Nothing," he gulps and glances over to where Charles is working his magic.

"Color?" the Monegasque asks, more like a dare.

"Green." Max lays him down again.

All remaining pieces of clothing are off.

Max is eager, and Charles has a difficult time staying the responsible one. "Are you sure? We really should take things slowly," he asks. He has to. The idea of ultimately pushing Max away by rushing this is terrifying his mind. But everything he does makes it clear he is so sure in his movements, completely locked up in the "here and now". Starting by the way his tongue licks the top of Charles' mouth, going through how how his hands hold him firmly in with intention, ending with the exciting conversation that seems to be happening between Max's eyes and Charles' dick.

He licks his lips. "Charles, I might be inexperienced, but I'm not dumb and I've done my research," his hooded eyes looking very sure of his statements.

Charles can't help but chuckle, the minor tension leaving his body. He kisses him quickly, letting the thought ripe and speaks again. "Research. Huh," he repeats excitedly. This is a nice new angle of Max.

Max apparently does not find this as important and exciting as Charles. He keeps their lips connected before he moves onto Charles' neck, probably to distract him - and it almost works. "Yes, what's wrong with that now."

There is a warmth crawling through the whole of Charles' body coming directly from where max nibbles at his neck. "Nothing," he nods approvingly. "I'm just imagining what it looks like when that happens. So many questions." he says and reluctantly pushes him away, pulling his face towards his while trying to look as innocently as possible. Something he knows Max tends to fall for.

He stares at him and Charles thinks he almost has him. "Well you can keep them," the Dutchman speaks, intent on standing his ground. Charles would beg to understand why. This might be a bigger challenge then expected.

"No, I think I need more visuals. To you know, believe that you had done the homework," Charles retores, not planning on backing down any time soon.

The deep breath Max makes it clear just how much he is starting to regret sharing this. But Charles entangles their fingers, possibly grounding him and making him more comfortable with sharing what he does when he's alone in the hotel room. It's not like Charles does not think about Max when he does it. He is sure that as far as perverse thoughts about a rival go, he is way ahead of him. Especially these past few weeks. Once the door opened, it was impossible to stay put.

He is maybe too excited about this for his own good, but the rush is addictive. His thoughts are racing, visuals of imaginary moments filling his brain and it's impossible for him to let this go. His mind slowly going into overdrive. Max jerking off in his hotel room. Touching himself in the shower. Watching gay porn with a notepad open, just as he has seen him when he watches old races. "Did you watch something? Or did you read some reddit post?" he wonders loudly, before the most criminal, self-indulgent and narcissistic idea plagues his brain. "No, wait - when did this start? Was if before or after our kiss?" He needs to know everything!

"Shut up." Max on the other stays his usual stubborn, the signature I-am-going-to-make-this-hard-for-you face on. Nothing that Charles hasn't seen or battled before.

The way he blinks his lashes is purely strategic, tongue rolling in his cheek, hopefully reminding Mr. Verstappen over here of the last time Charles had his dick up his mouth. "It was after? Am I your awakening?" Max silence is ever-telling. Oh, this is the sweetest thing Charles has ever learned about this guy.

Max crumples up like a sand castle. But still manages to keep his dignity and confidence up. "Does that surprise you?" He switches his tone up awkwardly from grumpy to flirty. Finally. Because the Monegasque is getting hornier by the second.

Charles grabbes him by the hips and moves him gently on his hard, dick. "Not in the slightest. I actually think you were mine, you know. But like, eight years ago." Everything is a competition. And he will make sure to get narrative right.

Max finally smiles again. Little stars of mischief sparkling in his eyes. "Was I that cute when I was standing on the podium above you?" This - this is the Max that gets Charles on the edge. He scowls and hold his lips tighter. He moves over to roam Charles' body, going back to his more relaxed and horny stage. "No, it just proves that I'm smarter and faster. Just like always."

"So, did you wank thinking of me when you were a teenager?"

"I dunno, do you wank thinking of me today?" he says while working on getting rid of Charles's boxers.

There is a smirk. "Not today."

Charles can feel the man getting impatient. Needy. It's written all over the way he kisses him, nibbles on his nipples and grips on his waist. As it the heavy panting and obvious erection weren't enough.

"So, how do you wanna do this?" he hears him, his analytical frown on. How does Charles find that adorable, he does not understand and would find it hard to explain.

"Are you sure?" he asks, leaving no place for a doubt that he himself is no less than enthusiastic on going forward.

"Green." Max decides to prove his stance by kissing his ear. He can't help but moan quietly.

Still, he tries to speak even though he's sure Max is trying to kill him. "Good. Well, however you feel like would suit you better. One of the positions requires probably less prep ahead."

He tilts his head up and Charles curses him mentally. "Are you prepped?"

"Yes," Charles replies, knowing there is more that he should have done to earn the right to call himself like that, but Max is pouring his blue eyes in and he just wants to take him all. He is somewhat prepped - enough probably.

Max huffs. "Oh, so you were expecting this to happen?"

"Better safe than sorry," Charles smirks back and playfully scratches his chest. He knows it's now or never. He's got this. Against all odds, he finds that he can trust his ultimate rival and wants to guide him through this experience. He shifts his body.

"Pillow," Charles mumbles expertly and shuffles one below his lower back. Max presses his lips into a thin like and gives him an approving nod, like he just solved a problem before he'd have a change to realize there might be one. It's still unbelievable to Charles that he finds himself in the middle of this scenario. His lightly tipsy mind making it all that much excitable. Max takes the lead and positions Charles where he thinks he wants him. It tingles some special place in his place, to be handled like that. For a rookie, Max is certainly not shy of holding himself back. It is extremely hot. His focused face mixed with horny eyes, body all perked up and his dick - oh my, his dick - all hard and with a nice little shiny wet spot at the tip. Charles wants to lick it up dry.

"Max," he urges and the Dutchman looks up at him with a question in his face. Charles buries his green eyes into the the blue. "It's going to be probably hard, but if you feel like coming...Make sure it's into my mouth." There is no point in hiding his slight kink now, is it? Just another topic on the top of things that should stay between them forever.

"So, no condom?" he replied, dumbfounded.

Charles chuckles. "Well, we get tested like every other week. Are you clean? I am."

The idea seems to be new to Max. Has this goodie-two-shoes never fucked without a condom? It really shouldn't make Charles even more horny for him. Max stares and nods. He was his first crush back in the day. A repressed one, but still. And, now Charles is about to break a whole lot of firsts for him. Charles is aware of his own tendency to be just a tiny bit possessive and this plays up to it so nicely. Charles's hand finds his own dick and he'd be happy just to jerk off at the idea alone.

"We're not going to do it without a condom, if it the idea does not excite you," he says, trying to plant the idea that this is something enjoyable into his brain. Charles knows that his own good it would have been wiser to do it with a condom. But when has he ever chosen that path, when temptation like Max comes knocking at the door.

Max seems to process few things, but than just shakes his head slightly and smiles away, returning back to his previous activity. His finger starts circling around Charles's entrance, pushing on the sides as he keeps switching between watching it with fascination and checking Charles's face for reaction. Charles thinks he might have as well jut keep his gaze down and make his assumptions based on how hard his own dick is. Since Max is busy with his circle motions and holding Charles' leg to the side, he keeps squeezing his own shaft. The younger driver reaches over for the lube he unpacked earlier. While he wasn't expecting anything to happen tonight, of course.

"You're gonna have to guide me...It's my first time after all," he breathes the words out and somehow makes it sound like he's the one mocking Charles and having him, well, completely wrapped around his finger. Which he only makes true a mere second later.

Charles has never been fucked by a virgin, the other guy, (well, there were two only) always being more experienced. It was strangely comforting, knowing he has slight heads up before Max, but not too much to make it uneven. Truth be told, Charles has fucked exactly two guys on two separate occasions. So much for being the experienced one. But, he tried both roles, so at least he has that.

It's different with Max. He is not afraid for either of them to feel slightly awkward. Max's pleasure is something he takes into account at every point of their encounter. Not just an after thought when he's had his own release. Max is not using "moves that worked before" with other people. He is exploring it all, mapping things out and takes his time to study him. Whatever Charles likes, he's going to remember that for a long time.

"Put slowly one lubed up finger in, slowly, and then move up quickly on the inside," he instructs the Dutchman, briefly recalling what others told him to do. He knows it's going to hurt, it always does. He's ready. It's suppose to be like that. He does not realize it, but the way he's biting his lips is giving away his nervousness.

And Charles can tell immediately this is the first time Max has his finger up and around someone's ass. His nails scratch the opening, not so carefully as nails this long should. He makes a mental note to b bring this up later.

"Okey, um. Circle around and open me up a bit. Lots of lube. And when you feel like I'm opening up, slowly push one finger inside," he repeats, fighting through the sharp pain, tryin to hide as much as he can.

Charles realizes now that it would have been smarter to be the one doing things. However, Max is so focused, compliant that he can't help but continue this strange journey. Max does exactly as instructed, his blue eyes watching Charles' hole intently, brows furred with focus. Every little push in feels like a needle pinch. Okay, maybe the prep Charles referred to was only a mental one. He's now harvesting the oats he's sown. Slowly, he start to feel some sort of pleasure. Or more likely he starts to get used to this level of pain. He knows Max is watching him and he tries to play it up butch. This needs to be a pleasant experience for Max if Charles ever wants to repeat it, he's convinced of that. Slowly but surely, Max's finger is fully in and he starts to move it around. This is way less painful for Charles than going in and out.

"Ah-Uh. Now-a bit left and up - I think," Charles whispers and a small tear rolls of his cheek.

It must have been this that tips Max off. Our of nowhere he's hovered above the Monegasque, something new in his eyes.

It’s subtle at first, just a flicker in Max’s expression, but Charles feels the weight of the moment shift like a sun rising up the horizon. He watches Max’s brow furrow slightly, the movements of his finger slowing down, a newfound precision in the way he holds himself above Charles, going in any direction but which Charles instructs him in.

"I think we can figure this out properly together, don't you think?" he retortes and it's the purest of Max one can encounter. The brave, cocky, determined and ready to try what other's haven't dared. "Relax for me, schatje." Charles is too focused to get caught on up on a word he does not understand. He does however find himself letting go of the tension a bit, knowing Max is aware of his reactions and fully present.

There’s something deliberate in the way his fingers move now, exploring instead of simply following. Charles wants to squirm under the intensity of Max’s gaze, but he forces himself to stay still. He can’t let him see through it. Not all of it.

But then Max tilts his head, his lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. That smile is dangerous. It’s the kind that threatens to dismantle all of Charles’s carefully constructed walls.

“You okay?” Max’s voice is low, steady, pulling Charles out of his spinning thoughts. He nods quickly, too quickly, and Max’s smile deepens.

That’s when Charles realizes it’s too late. Max knows. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong. He hasn’t lied, not really. He just let Max assume things. Let him believe the experience Charles hinted at was greater than the truth. He’d leaned into the role without thinking, needing that illusion of control.

Charles feels exposed in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It’s not uncomfortable, exactly. It’s just...Vulnerable.

But that's the moment Max decides to add another one of his fingers to the play. The stretch is not an unknown sensation, but one he hasn't felt in a while now. It's familiar, his muscles protesting against the uncommon pull. He pinches himself in the fat around his hip, to move his attention from the pain he feels below. Just as it's about to work and he can feel his body relax a bit, a voice gets him out of his meditative state.

"What are you doing?" Max blurts out and it's at that moment Charles realizes his own eyes are closed. He opens them again, to see what caught Max of guard. But, before he can even address it or process it, Max's free hand yanks his fingers away, stopping the pinching. The look he gives him is of same attitude that a parent gives to a misbehaving child.

"It helps with the initial pain," Charles explains plainly, trying to regain his position of the experienced one. After all, it was an advice he received from his first male sexual encounter. Max seems to think it through before he orders simply.

"That's just stupid. Don't do that anymore." Charles thinks just how absurd this all is, being Max's first time and he's already being obnoxious and ordering him around.

"You're impossible," he mumbles automatically, opting out of prolonging this conversation. Max's fingers start to twist around and explore the inside of Charles and everytime he goes around he manages to just about brush over a spot Charles finds particularly sensitive. Oh...

That's a new sensation completely. It stops any activity in his brain.

"And yet, here you are," he hears Max respond, but the man could be reciting his latest practice times for all he could care - because, fuck - this is, um, this is getting unprecedently pleasant. The pain is almost gone, he's finding a new dimension in the slight stretch, but it's the tingling that he gets in the end of his fingertips when Max brushes over that one spot.

Charles' breath hitches and he swears Max responds with a chuckle. The longer he moves, the more sensitive his insides become and generate more of that sweet feeling. Mindlessly, he reaches for his dick. Once again, he didn't notice just exactly when he closed his eyes again. The weight of Max above him, the steady press of his fingers, grounds him even as his senses threaten to spin out into the stratosphere. Charles hadn’t known it could feel like this - like he was being disentangled and put back together at the same time. There’s a rhythm to the way Max moves, calm but intentional, and Charles lets himself sink into it, his fingers curling against Max’s shoulders. He knows Max is mumbling something and that he himself is letting out soft moans. He gives in to whatever Max is doing and for once, it's not a physical exercise, but a lesson on pleasure and dancing on the edge of wonder. It's raw, lightheaded and somehow everywhere at the same time.

It's when Max adds a third finger when him mind returns to the room again. "Slowly, Max," he pleas. "But go on, this is-uh, yeah," Charles tries to dig up words in English, but it's getting progressively more difficult. His fingers start to move again and it's a different feeling this time. The moves are less precise, but instead he fills up spaces Charles doubted existed. In the middle of getting lost in the good part of all of this, he feels Max leaning down to him again, his lips caressing his cheek, jaw and mouth as well.

"Do you still want me inside?" he asks and both of them know he's not refering to the fingers. Charles wraps his arms around him and cups his cheek. He gives his full consent by nodding, to wrapped up in all of it.

"Words, Charles. I need to know."

"Yes, Maxi-e," he tries to say Max Emilian, but fails. "I want you."

And just like that, he empty again, missing the sensation and waiting, watching Max lubing up his cock and the realization that this is actually happening hits him. He finally admits to himself that he is scared. Just a little bit. He wants to be good for Max, he is worried that he will fumble somewhere down the line and ruin this whole thing. But, this is Max. The man, who is about to fuck him, and for the first time it does not feel like a transaction between two strangers. He will see Max in the morning, he will see him next week and probably in the next years too. And it's this, the notion of timelessness that makes it surprisingly exciting and not at all scary. Max is fucking hot where he knees above him like that, all muscles tightened and flushed out look on his face. When he positions him at Charles' entrance, the all familiar tingle rushes through his body again. Kind of like when he kissed him for the first time. As if Max could hear his thoughts this time, he leans down and connects their lips. It's rough and gentle at the same time. He moves up again a little bit and rests his forehead on Charles'. He asks one more time if it's all okay. And Charles confirms.

Max moves slowly, carefully, one would easily think that he has it all under control. But his face, his broken breaths and loud gulps giving away this is all but a chill experience for him too. Charles would never admit this out loud, but Max's dick feels so much more natural than his fingers. He's pushing in and the walls welcome him in a series of relief laced with few pinches of pain. It's so much different, numbing in the best, most unique, way possible. They're wrapped all over each other and only once Charles feels that Max is in all the way, he's able to let his breath out. It’s not just the physical sensations, though those are enough to leave him light-headed. Max's cheeks are flushed, it looks like he's fighting himself to keep it in check. Charles knows this moment, the realization of just how any other type of sex is ruined for a person once you find the thing that really makes it all click. The moment, when you realize why people make such a deal out of this activity.

"You okay?" he checks in, his own breath shaky. Max just closes his eyes and nods. He has to laugh, because finally, he found a way to shut him up. The decision to not ruin the moment and keep this comment to himself is a quick one. "You can start moving now," he says instead, feeling his body getting loose enough to handle what ever is to come.

The pain is almost gone now. The soft and yet hard dick filling him up so mercilessly. And just like that, Max starts to move in and out. Careful with pace, rich with dedication. The room fades out, leaving only the heat between them, the press of skin against skin, and the dizzying pleasure building with every movement. Charles feels himself spiraling, his breath coming faster, his body alight with sensation. The dazzling tingling crawls all over his body. He's never felt so small, yet so grand at the same time. He studies Max, drowns in the way his face gives away just how enough Charles is for him. Max seems lost in the moment and there never was a more addictive sight to observe. He's steadily picking up his pace and Charles marvels on just how good it all feels. He arches his back, his head tilting back against the pillow as his body adjusts, opening further to Max. The sounds of their body smashing against each other grow louder. Charles feels himself getting pleasantly dizzy with the way Max has his body bouncing. He's holding onto the man above him with all he has, giving into the rhythm he's setting and spirals even further.

“Oh, fuck, Charles” he hears a rough comment pass by, his voice catching on a moan, his accent thicker. He loves it. He's as deep in this mess as Charles is. He's got him. He's good enough for him and this is just the beginning. Charles tightens his legs around Max’s hips, pulling him in deeper.

The shift in angle has Charles crying out, his entire body trembling as delight pushes through him. His toes curl, and his vision blurs for a moment, his senses overwhelmed. He’s never felt anything like this. So raw, exposed, and yet so safe. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

It seems like Max is equally lost in it all, as he picks up the pace and pants into Charles full force, so much it almost hurts again. Charles is watching him and he knows he's close. The sight is one to die for. Max's face is stuck in an expression most people would see only when he's in massive pain, eyes closed and his thrusts are getting messier and less coordinated. And the finally, with his breath stuck in his throat, he pulls out. It looks like it takes all the concentration he has within to do so and immediately Charles hitches at the sudden loss of him inside. But Max makes it up with getting out something that could be only described as a beautiful grunt and shoots his load all over Charles, managing to land some of it into his mouth. Just like he'd asked for. Max is his good boy. After few uneven shoots, he collapses next to him, panting heavily and totally out of this world. Charles watches him, burning this sight into his memory, studying him like a subject. Part of him wishes he had lasted just a little longer. He curls up next to him, not giving a single fuck about staining the sheets with the remains of Max's cum.

"I-," he hears Max pant heavily. After few deep breaths he picks up again. "It's so much more intense," he says dumbfoundly and Charles has to laugh. His soul is dancing with pride. He's the one that made Max look like that - completely out of it, destroyed and gone. And he hadn't even done that much.

"I'm glad you feel that way," he mumbles and lets his hand roam around Max's chest.

"I'm sorry-It was so fast. I'm usually not-" he trips over his own words, as he's still coming down from his high.

Charles knows what he want to say. "Don't worry. Nobody lasts long the first time." And from his experience, that is the truth. Max turns to him, cheeks flushed red, some type of crazy inhabiting his eyes. "Well then, that means we gotta do it again. Can't have you think this is the best I can do," he proclaims and it makes Charles chuckle, as he touches his dick once again. It's fine. They'd broken so many doors tonight, there was no need to rush this forward more. This is a longterm project for Charles. He is completely fine with nutting himself on post-orgasm Max - and just how he arrived to this being a sentence he could say out loud and all of it being true is beyond him.

Max's eyes flash down towards Charles' hips, then back to his face. "Continue," he says in the most teasing way Charles has ever seen him speak.

And, so he does.

When Daniel calls in an impromptu FIFA tournament between the Redbull and Toro Rosso drivers in his room, Max always joins. The same would go for Pierre. Brendon politely declines this time. If there is one person grateful for that, it would be Charles. He's usually not invited to these, as he is nowhere near any of those teams. But a little bit of manipulation here and there, Max giving him the heads up that this being planned and Charles using Pierre and his inability to decline a hang out time between the two best friends, makes it so that these four are now sitting in Daniel's room, deep in the tournament - French speakers vs. the rest of the world.

Truth be told, Charles would be more than happy to just stay locked in with Max alone, but this is a decent option.

The Red Bulls are currently winning, but for once, Charles could care less. He's waiting for his turn impatiently, so that he can go and attempt at crushing Max. Pierre groans, as Daniel scores again. "This is rigged. There’s no way you’re playing fair." He nearly throws away his controller, earning a laugh from the Australian driver. "Just admit you’re bad at this, Pierre. It’s okay. Acceptance is the first step."

Max and Charles sit on the sidelines of this battle, slightly behind them, shoulders brushing every so often as they lounge on the floor. As the banter continues, Max casually picks a grape from the bowl on the floor and tosses it into Charles’s lap. It catches him of guard and the Dutchman chuckles, seemingly keeping his focus on the game. He curses him silently - as if it wasn't impossible already for Charles to keep his cool and distance in this setting. It's borderline torture, one he'd happily endure for hours. Both know neither of them are keeping up with Daniel's and Pierre's game. This is all just an excuse to hang out together. Charles picks the grape up without comment, narrowing his eyes at Max before flicking it back at him. He catches it mid-air and pops it into his mouth, smirking as he chews. How does one manage to make this look attractive, Charles does not know. It does however rial him up more that Pierre's weak defense making them lose the FIFA match.

It's like Max can read his thoughts. "You hear Daniel, acceptance is the first step," he teases and shifts so that he is not sitting directly across from Charles. The Monegasque licks his lips and mimics his move. Oh, it's on.

"Pierre, you heard the Red Bullies over here. Stop losing," he says to his current teammate, without leaving sight of Max.

Max nods approvingly and begins to aim. "Look at you, you got jokes," he nods approvingly and throws another grape. This time deliberately hitting Charles' head. "But no game," he concludes and it's like he's inviting Charles to jump on him here and now. He blinks and glares back at him. "Should we turn off the big light? Is it bothering you that much?" Max's lips are twirling up and it looks like he's having the time of his life.

Fine. Charles doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he picks up two grapes, tossing them in quick succession. Max catches the first with ease, but the second hits his cheek. He glares at Charles, though his grin gives him away.

"What’s wrong, Verstappen? Big shot can’t catch everything?" Charles tosses another grape, this time deliberately off-target. It bounces off Max’s shoulder, and Charles smirks as Max gives him a deadpan look. "Was that a trick shot? You might want to aim at the person, not the wall." Max throws another grape at Charles, with much more force and this time he catches it swimmingly. He makes sure that the grape pops loudly as he chews.

"There are no rules," Charles responds and pick up another one. He aims for a long time and then fake throws. Max falls for it and move in the way he anticipated the trajectory. When he immediately realizes that Charles hadn't thrown anything yet, his lips grow thin. Only then Charles decides to make his shot, a beautiful one that bounces of Max's cheek. "You talk so much for someone who’s losing at grapes," he adds. Then he trows the grape on Max's other shoulder and bursts laughing.

Max winces, reaching back for one of the grapes lying on the ground. "Oh, so you’re missing on purpose?" he raises his brows and Charles prepares himself for an attack.

This has Daniel half-turn to observe the action. "Are you two… throwing grapes back there?"

It catches Charles off-guard a bit throws him out of the militant vibe. Max notices and gives him an all-knowing, calming nod paired with a small smile. The butterflies in Charles' stomach begin a coordinated dance. "We’re just staying entertained while you embarrass yourself, Daniel," Max brushes it over, even though Daniel is winning by a landslide (but how would he know), and flings one grape towards Charles, one that would be impossible to miss. It does not matter now, because Charles is losing a completely different battle now. His goal is to not melt completely under the intense stare of Max Verstappen. Stare that is full of unmistakable kindness, fondness and feels like sinking into a warm bath. He let's another grape fly past by. Charles is too busy studying and admiring Max's face, the sharp features of his jaw, the way how in this ugly light, his eyes shine in a shade of blue it makes it seem that this color was the blueprint to all other things of that color. Max can clearly tell what's happening and takes full advantage of it, throwing yet another grape, this time directly at Charles' nose.

"You're impossible," he mutters and it hits him, that every time he says it, the words seem to shift, losing their original meaning. They’re starting to sound like something else entirely. Something neither of them is ready for. Perhaps they never will be.

"And yet, here you are," Max replies, his tone light but carrying that familiar rhythm, the one they’ve danced to countless times before. It feels different this time.

None of them notice Pierre, who's concentration shift momentarily from the game towards the two drivers sitting behind him. He watches them, locked in some private world he can’t access, and it makes him pause. The two drivers were always little bit weird about each other. Pierre had spent many afternoons listening to Charles rant about the latest illegal overtake Max made, back in their karting days. He still found it surprising that these two found a way to sit in the same room, willingly spending time together. He tries to shift his focus back to the game, but there is something about this whole evening that he can't seem to shake off. Like an itch he can't reach to scratch. He briefly looks over to Daniel, who unlike him, seems to be lost int he game. His intention is to stay quiet and not to draw any attention to something he probably needs to talk about to with Charles soon. At least, that's the plan until he heard his best friend giggle. His eyes snap back to the pair, catching them mid-battle over a grape. Max is smirking, Charles is laughing, and Pierre suddenly feels an inexplicable urge to step in. "Could you children keep it down? Some of us are trying to concentrate." Thank God, Charles turns over to him and Pierre's look seems to bring him back to reality. The tone he spoke in was light, unlike his stern, strict warning look. They stare at each other for a moment, speaking without words, only in a way best friends know how to.

Thankfully, it works. Charles gulps, visibly distraught, but his tone won't give that away. "Oh, sorry, Pierre. Didn’t realize it took so much focus to hit the wrong buttons."

He does have a strong urge to kill Charles now. But luckily, it's looking like the game is about to end.

"Ok, we have to mix up the teams differently for the next match," he adds, working on his master plan of not having Max and Charles on the same team.

chapter 7, part 1

------- @chezmardybum @biancathecool

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