Professional Disappointment

About me

Hi im Natasha

23 Y/O F

In the motivated U.S. Marine Corps!

Living in U.S. (EST timezone)

This is my mass fanfic archive. I change all my self insets to (y/n) so you can enjoy them too!!

Nikto’s gaze flicked to Krueger across the room: stonefaced, arms crossed, eyes like knives behind that mask of his. If Nikto was a wall, Krueger was a blade, cold and sharp, ready to cut through anyone stupid enough to force a conversation.

Behind closed doors, fresh-faced Military Psychiatrists waited all of them eager, nervous, and freshly trained. They had completed countless hours of study, simulations, and psychological prep. But nothing could prepare them for the men they were about to face. These men were walking scars. These men were broken, rebuilt, and weaponized. None of them a man in the room but a consequence.

The doors opened slowly, spilling light across the waiting crowd. The stage was set the final practical application had begun. Inside stood all previous Marines, Navy, Army, and Air Force, each one from a different walk of life, now fighting for the same prize: selection. Every move they made, every word they spoke, was watched, measured, and judged. There was no room for error. Not here.

Footsteps approached. Lighter. Deliberate. Professional.

Nikto’s fingers twitched once against the chair, before settling. The woman standing before him was dressed in the standard business casual uniform favored by military psychologists at events like this trying to blur the line between evaluation and formality. A fitted black blazer over a plain black T-shirt, crisp white slacks, and modest kitten heels. A petite gold watch glinted at her wrist and gold round stud earrings in her ears, catching the harsh light overhead. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, professional bun, and a plastic-covered name tag swung from a lanyard around her neck, though the glare made it unreadable from where Nikto sat.

She approached with calculated distance, careful not to get too close. Then came the smile—polite, practiced, a little too tense.

“Good evening, sir. My name is Doctor (L/N).”

His silence stretched long enough to make it uncomfortable, the muted hum of the lounge filling the gap where words should have been. She stood there, waiting for a response she wasn’t sure she wanted. He tilted his head slightly, leather creaking at the collar of his jacket. The mask over his face made any subtle expression vanish, leaving only that unreadable stare.

Finally, he spoke—low, gravel-edged, the faintest trace of Russian shadowing his words.

“…Doctor.”

The way he said it was neither greeting nor acknowledgment. Just… a word. He didn’t offer a name. Didn’t move. Didn’t blink. The woman rolled her lips back and nodded fully expecting his lack of participation. She had read his folder before this.

The corners of his eyes narrowed just a fraction, studying her posture, the way her hands rested, the tightness in her shoulders. All tells. All weaknesses. Easy to scare. Easy to break. He let the silence return, letting her decide if she’d fill it or run. Her eyes bounced away from his and then back. Remember the script.

“Yes, are you having a good evening?”

She said confidently again, still following a script. Her fingers pressed tightly around the clipboard she held close to her chest. She blinked a few times awaiting his response shifting her weight to the other leg. Now her name tag was visible.

(F/N, L/N)

United States Marine Corps (RTD)*

Class 224 - UNT ASN KORTAC*

Then a bunch of numbers and a barcode.

Nikto’s gaze dropped to the tag the moment it caught the light. His eyes tracked the name—slowly. (F/N) (L/N). Former Marine. Assigned KORTAC. Interesting. His pupils tightened a fraction. He didn’t look impressed. If anything, that detail made his stare heavier, as if weighing her worth without needing to speak. Marine. So you’ve seen blood, then. And still, you look like you’d break in half if I breathe too hard.

Her question hung in the air like a weak thread. Are you having a good evening? Scripted nonsense. He exhaled through his mask, a sound more like a growl than a sigh.

“No.”

The word dropped flat and cold, clipped at the edges. His accent wrapped around it just enough to make it sound foreign, harder. He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t return the question. Instead, he leaned forward slightly—enough that the tension shifted like a warning. One gloved hand rested on his knee, the other still gripping the chair arm, knuckles pale against black leather.

The doctors face dropped for a moment and then she went to a smirk nodding again. She let out a breath and gestured to the chair next to him. She attempted to mirrored his body language by leaning forward slightly and turning her body towards him as a sign of being open to talk.

“You read my file.” His voice was quiet, but it cut like glass. “You think that makes you ready?”

His head tilted a few degrees, eyes narrowing—not in rage, but in that dissecting way predators study prey. She stood up straighter at his statement. Her face hardened slightly realizing the script wasn’t going to work. Match his intimidation. Nikto knows this is a test so he might as well make it one. Hopefully she studied.

She had more techniques she could use later. The doctor sighed and answered flatly.

“Yes I’ve read your file. I also know you’ve been to one of these events before.”

A quick pause; then another attempt at building rapport.

“Можно мне сесть там?” (Can I sit down?)

She asked somewhat confidently. Her Russian was okay. Definitely not a native speaker. Going to his native language was an attempt to find common ground. Nikto’s eyes fixed on her the second the Russian left her lips. For a heartbeat, there was stillness—too sharp, like the air before a blade falls. Then, slowly, his head tilted, and a sound low in his throat rumbled—a laugh, or something near it. Dry. Empty.

Her accent wasn’t terrible. But it wasn’t his. And trying to bridge the gap with language? Cute. He didn’t tell her to sit. Instead, he let the silence drag until it coiled tight around her shoulders. Then, in Russian, his tone dipped lower, rolling with a weight that sounded more threat than invitation:

“Тебе не стоило этого делать.” (You shouldn’t have done that.)

A laugh is good right? She reminded herself of the lessons: Build Rapport. She smiled but it looked unsure and almost the tiniest bit cocky. Her eyebrows pinched together. The doctor didn’t hesitate in her follow up question. This was her window. Time for an open question.

“Что ты имеете в виду?” (What do you mean?)

Her tone was the same as before. Soft but a bit more confident. When she spoke Russian again, his brow flicked up just barely, a ghost of expression hidden by the mask. Surprise, maybe even amusement. It was subtle, but it was there. Nikto posture shifted, controlled stale chill of his presence pressing hard against her composure. The leather creak of his gloves broke the hum of distant chatter as his grip on the armrest tightened once, then stilled. She didn’t react or show intimidation to him leaning forward. Her eyes didn’t glance down to react how the chair made a creaking noise to him squeezing it. She just blinked. A muscle in her jaw tensing for a moment. Nikto spoke his voice laced with venom

“You read the file. Good. Then you know…” His words switched back to English, slow and deliberate, as if pinning each syllable to her spine. “…what I do to people who try too hard.”

That smirk she had before and she switched back to English. Mirror she told herself. She leaned slightly shifting the weight to her back leg as he leaned back.

“I can respect that.”

She responded dryly. The room beyond them blurred into background noise. There was nothing but those grey eyes, sharp as shattered ice, dissecting every flicker of muscle in her face. Finally…finally…he sat back into the chair, the tension breaking like a wire snapping, but not before letting her feel the cut of it deep. He gestured lazily to the chair.

“Sit. Since you want to.”

The mockery in his voice was subtle, but it was there. The doctors eyebrows rose up in surprise as he annoced he was allowing her to sit. This was great progress. Lots to go still. She’s confidently sat down. Nikto knew she was watching his ever move like he was watching hers. The doctor let out a breath she had been holding and crossed her legs. She turned her torso slightly in his direction to remain open to conversation and looked at him waiting for a response to her question earlier.

Nikto tracked every movement—the tilt of her head, the twitch in her jaw, the way her breath stuttered for half a second before she caught it. She was holding the line. Not breaking, but not winning either. That smirk of hers… he hated it. Or maybe he didn’t. Hard to tell where the irritation ended and the interest began. Nikto went back to her question in Russian from earlier. His eyes narrowed slightly as he repeated her follow-up question in his head. What do you mean?

Then, without warning, he leaned forward again, closing that respectful space with quiet precision. A small gap and two chair arms between them. His voice dropped to a murmur, Russian wrapping around his tone like barbed wire:

“Я имею в виду, что ты не готова.” (I mean you’re not ready.)

Nikto let that hang for a breath before. Back to Russian? It was always more comfortable to speak your native language to someone. She kept her eyes on him and her expression neutral with a small friendly smile. Making sure to listen with purpose and not rush him to answer. The only reaction she had to him leaning forward was swallowing. Her expression remained exactly the same.

Her eyebrow raised and slightly turned her head to the side. More open questions. This is more than she had expected him to talk.

“Готов к…?” (Ready for…?)

She said softly, which Nikto quickly followed. Nikto switched back to English, sharp and low.

“You read a file and thought you understood. You walk in here with a smile, a script, a… little Russian. You think that’s enough?”

He tilted his head slowly, eyes fixed on hers like a vise. His voice thinned into a blade:

“Say the wrong thing to the wrong man… and you don’t leave the room.”

Another pause, weighted, meant to make her feel every second of it. She smiled and nodded at his following statement. Leaning slightly into the chair as Nikto had leaned in previously. A show that she wasn’t intimidated. Convincing even if it was lie. She made sure to mirror and switch to English as well.

“I’m happy you acknowledged my Russian skills.”

Another attempt at common ground. She didn’t react to his masked threat of saying the wrong thing. The Doctor wasn’t at all scared. This was a controlled environment and she was a Marine. Although she knew for a fact if it came down to strength he would win every time. Then his gaze flicked to her crossed legs, then back to her eyes.

“Uncross.” It wasn’t a request. It was a command. A test.

Unexpected. The doctors eyebrow twitched and she smiled at his demand for her to uncross her legs.

“I respect the fact you want me to uncross my legs but, I’m comfortable like this.”

A polite deflection but firm answer. Nikto didn’t move— neither did she. No flicker of surprise. No visible irritation. Just that steady, glacial stare. He let the weight of silence crush between them like ice forming under pressure. Then…slowly his head tilted again, that same surgical shift of predatory interest. Her expression was constant. Unreadable. Nikto saw the barely visible artery in her neck beat faster. When he spoke, the tone was softer now, almost a whisper, but sharper than before:

“Ты слушала плохо.”

(You didn’t listen well.)

His gloved hand lifted—not fast, not threatening, but deliberate. He reached forward and, without touching her, hooked a finger beneath the edge of her clipboard. She held her breath as Nikto took the clipboard. Her face not reacting. The Doctor let him take it. A slow, subtle tug, like he was peeling away her shield. The message wasn’t about the object—it was about control. The doctor was slow and pushed it forward for him to take. Same as anyone would do if passing an item to someone. She had turned his attempt at intimidation into a regular interaction. As if she passed him the clipboard.

“Comfort is a lie,” he murmured, English now, voice cutting low like a blade grazing her skin. “You think you have it until someone takes it.”

He set the clipboard on the table beside them without looking, then leaned in again, his masked face just close enough that she could hear the rasp of his breath through the material. Nikto’s gaze lingered on her like a blade against glass waiting for a crack. But she didn’t flinch. She even fed the motion, like giving him the clipboard was her choice. That earned her something— not approval, not trust, but maybe… a pause.

“You didn’t run,”

he added after a beat, eyes narrowing like he was dissecting the fibers of her spine. The artery in her neck betrayed her, though. He saw it. Filed it away like a weapon. He continued:

“That’s good.”

A pause. Then, quieter, colder:

“But you didn’t obey either.”

His gaze held hers for a second longer before he leaned back, shoulders sinking into the chair, as if he’d just ended something she didn’t fully understand. One gloved hand tapped against the armrest once, twice, and then stilled. She didn’t watch him place it on the chair next to him. The doctor maintained eyecontact. Maintained her smile. (Y/n) moved her hands to her lap. Right over left. An open position. Her torso still directed to face him, leaning forward slightly, showing she was open to conversation. That neutral smile still present.

“Comfort is intangible.”

A simple response but firm enough to get the message across. Nothing was in the clipboard anyway. It’s for show. To keep the discussion professional. Just as she had leaned forward she leaned back. Her posture still confident. As if there was a metal pole in her spine. He didn’t comment.

“Ask your next question, Doctor.”

Finally—he spoke again, flat, unreadable. (Y/n) responded taking this as an opportunity to resume her previous question. It was important for her to remain in partial control of the conversation.

“Ready for?”

Nikto leaned forward again, but slower this time—not predatory, more deliberate. The repetition of her earlier question. Persistent. Digging. His gloved fingers steepled beneath his chin, elbows resting on his knees. That mask made it impossible to see his face, but his eyes… his eyes told her everything. That he was still testing. Still hunting.

“Ready,” he said, low, his voice almost a whisper, “for people who don’t want to be saved.”

The weight of the words hung like a noose. His gaze bore into hers, cold and heavy as a winter sky. Nikto was talking more and now moving more. Good. Continuing to attempt to build rapport and listen with purpose she told herself. Only known to (y/n), her heart was beating from adrenaline. Being careful to not predict the direction the conversation would go. Let him take his time. The doctor nodded softly to ensure he knew she was listening.

“Why is it important to you that I’m aware of everyone’s need to not be saved?”

She asked softly. Good. Made it to question three. For a moment, there was stillness again so complete it swallowed the hum of the lounge. Nikto didn’t answer right away. He just stared at her, long and hard, like he was peeling her words apart to see what was hiding underneath. Her question…why is it important to you…had landed. Not because he wanted to answer, but because no one ever asked him that before.

His gloved hands shifted, slow and deliberate, folding together between his knees. A faint metallic rasp whispered from somewhere on his gear when he moved. When he spoke, his voice was low and harsh, almost a growl:

“It’s not important to me.”

A pause, then sharper, like glass grinding underfoot. Nikto continued, tone flattening into something almost clinical, almost cruel:

“It’s important to you. Because you believe you can help. That’s your weakness. They sent you here, thinking you can fix what isn’t broken. They tell you we need help, that we can come back…but we don’t come back, Doctor. We don’t want to.”

(Y/n) continued to maintain eye contact and nod as he spoke. Not too much. For the first time, his voice shifted—a rasp of something darker creeping in, like a shadow crawling under the door:

“So… tell me.” His eyes narrowed to slits, grey and merciless.

“When you fail, and you will, what happens to you?”

She didn’t expect him to ask a question back. The corners of her mouth twitching in her consistent soft smile. Address the disinterest. The same tone as earlier, soft but firm.

“This is just a conversation we’re having, not a test that results in a pass or fail. Just talking.”

Nikto leaned forward again, but this time it wasn’t a strike. It was like a shadow moving closer, heavy and cold. His words dragged with a quiet venom:

“You want to make this conversation safe. It isn’t. It never was.”

His eyes flicked down, then up, pinning her in place like a knife through paper. He let her reassurance …just talking… hang in the air for a beat before tearing into it with a single line:

“You don’t believe that.”

His tone had lost the mockery now. It was something else—something closer to predation, but quieter, almost thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. (Y/n) could tell he was doing the same thing as her. Dissecting the conversation. Every word had meaning. Every question had a direction it could go. Mutual control. (Y/n) nodded to his claim she didn’t believe that. In reality she did. She wanted to help people like him. It was her job. Her passion. Her profession after the Marine Corps. Lots of hard work to be in front of someone like Nikto. She remained in the same position as before her foot bounced for a second. Could be a sign of cockiness or nervousness. It wasn’t clear.

“You’re good,” he said finally, almost like an observation, almost like a warning. Then after a beat:

“But good doesn’t survive long.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was heavy. Testing. She let the silence simmer for a moment. She knew he was trying to predict ever turn the conversation would try to turn in. Time to stop gathering more information. Respond to the disinterest.

“Why is this not important to you?”

She asked in the same tone she had maintained this whole time. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Feeling as if it was smacking against her ribs. Trying to remember the scripts for maintaining control. Her face remained unreadable. (Y/n) made sure not to argue not responding to the majority of what he said.

Nikto’s eyes narrowed just slightly—not from anger, but because that question hit where he hadn’t expected. (Y/n) was looping the conversation back to where she wanted it. His head tilted a fraction, and for the first time, there was hesitation in the air. Not weakness, but calculation.

Her voice stayed level. Soft. Unshaken. He’d been pushing, carving at her composure like a sculptor working stone, and she was still there same posture, same calm tone. Even the bounce in her foot? He noticed it. Filed it away. But it didn’t matter she wasn’t breaking.

He leaned back slowly, the leather of his jacket creaking faintly, his hands folding over his knees. When he spoke, his voice was low, deliberate, like each word weighed more than steel:

“Because importance is… a luxury.”

Got him. He took the bait. (Y/n) nodded to show she was listening. His eyes locked with hers—cold, but sharp, like a hunter speaking truth that burned in his bones. She tried to read the emotion his eyes displayed. Not much to work with but they widened like when she spoke Russian. She matched his tone lowering her voice and taking time on each word.

“What do you mean by a luxury.”

She asked. (Y/n) kept eye contact. Control over her breath. Subconsciously matching his. For a moment, his gaze flicked to the clipboard on the table. The doctor kept looking at him as he looked away. Taking that split second to swallow the tension in her throat. By the time he turned she was back to unreadable. Niktos eyes snapped back to her. A faint trace of something crossed his eyes memory, maybe, or something darker clawing at the edges.

“You want this to matter,”

he said softly, almost like an accusation. All she did was nod to his accusation before he spoke. Defensive? She went back to fully paying attention as he said Doctor. She remained stoic. He continued:

“But out there…”

he jerked his chin slightly toward the world beyond the walls, his voice tightening to a rasp:

“—nothing matters. Not your words. Not your rules. Not even life.”

He sat forward again, slow and predatory, his voice dipping into that rough whisper:

“So tell me, Doctor…”

A pause. His head tilts, the mask catching the light like black steel.

“…if nothing matters—why do you?”

The challenge hung heavy between them, a coiled wire waiting to snap. She need to move her tone away from the aggressive and challenging direction his was going. Her tone was soft and easy going. Her voice was still low to match his. A deescalation statement.

“This is just a conversation. Nothing more. It’s okay if it doesn’t matter.”

Nikto froze. Not outwardly, but in the way predators do when something unexpected shifts in the air. Her tone had changed. Not defensive, not forceful—soft. Easy. It didn’t fight his words; it absorbed them.

The silence that followed was heavier than any threat he’d made so far. He leaned back slowly, head tilting just a fraction, those cold grey eyes narrowing as if recalibrating. She wasn’t reacting how most did—no fear, no scramble to take control back. Just… calm.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before. Not softer—just lower, as if the weight had shifted.

“You think that makes it safe?” His tone wasn’t mocking this time. It was… curious. Probing.

He watched her for a long second, his gaze dissecting her words for weaknesses that weren’t there. She was matching his breath. Matching his cadence. Keeping the room hers without taking it from him.

Then something happened he didn’t plan. His head dipped slightly. Just enough to be noticeable. Not submission, not approval—acknowledgment.

“Хорошо,” (Alright)

he muttered finally, Russian curling over the word like smoke. (Y/n) didn’t react to his fall in stature. A wall down? Probably not. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees again, but there was no snap, no sharp edge this time. She mimicked her own form of relaxation. (Y/n) uncrossed her legs and crossed them again. Relaxing the same way he did as he learned back. She let out a small sigh. Not one of disappointment but one from deep thought. The calmness remained even as she moved. She looked over at him. Her head tilting softly towards him. Still keeping her body turned and open for conversation. And then, almost like a test disguised as casual, his next words slid out:

“So… tell me, (y/n). Marine. Doctor. Why are you here?”

The tone was flat, but something had shifted. The predator wasn’t pouncing anymore. He was circling—watching if she’d open a door she couldn’t close. Redirect.

“Why did you come? This event was optional for you.”

She asked softly but almost rhetorically. Giving him the option to blow off the question or answer. That sense of control still apparent. But it did feel neutral. She kept looking at him for his response. (Y/n) knew why she was here and that was to meet clientele similar to him. Walls up and capable of defending them. She matched his relaxed breathing again. Giving him room to decline the question or speak. Nikto stared at her. No shift. No blink. Just the quiet ticking of something behind his eyes. She hadn’t answered his question. She’d turned it.

Not with force. Not with arrogance. With subtlety. She gave him space, a choice, as if this was his conversation—not a test, not a profile being filled out. His. And that… that was new. He exhaled, slow and deliberate, the sound soft through the material of his mask.

“You’re good at this.”

The words weren’t warm, weren’t approving—but they were honest. A rare thing from him. He looked past her for the first time in minutes. Her eyes stayed glued to him. He did just a glance toward the door, then back. His posture didn’t shift much, but that small movement made the air feel different. Less like a coiled spring. More like something cooling.

“Optional…they always say that.”

he echoed finally, his tone flattening into something more analytical. His fingers tapped once on his knee. Then again. Controlled rhythm. A subtle tell, maybe. A simple answer.

“I come to see who they send. To see who can be broken first.”

His gaze shifted back to her. Still weighing her. Still watching for that tiny crack that never came. The air in the room started to thicken.

“You didn’t.”

Silence again. Long. Tension still there, but thinned out now. No longer barbed, more like a wire slowly slackening. His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You want to know why I stayed? Because you didn’t pretend to win.”

Then—finally—he leaned back again, gloved hands steepling in his lap.

“That’s rare.”

(Y/n) inhaled softly, ready to speak. She didn’t rush. She timed it, let the silence breathe, just as he had. She parted her lips to respond. Footsteps approached them.

To be continued….

Notes: If you see my OCs name (my name🥀 Natasha) in here I missed it. I tried to remove them all as I had wrote this just for me. ALSO you like those “—“ I added in?!? I wanted to be mega spicy with my punctuation. Maybe I should focus on all the commas and periods I missed. This took me a whole year to write. I think I got better. I’ve learned “Sales” skills now and finished my Associates. It’s been a long year. I am finally in the states again. Still in the military but on to bigger and better things!! XOXO hope you enjoy.

Websites used: 1. Reverso - For Russian 2. Quillbot - spellchecker 3. Word counter - to count words. PM for links if you want <3

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Consistent asf when it comes to meal preparation. He has a whole dedicated set of Tupperware for the meals. Kyle meal preps on Saturday because on Sunday the barracks kitchen is packed. As I mentioned in another post, hes getting really good at cooking and is open to learning new recipes.

Focuses on high intensity interval training (HIIT). So he can do his workout in and out of the gym. The majority of it is body weight. Sometimes he’ll use kettlebells or rubber dumbbells. He honestly hates the weight room. Its boring to him. His workouts are explosive which makes them fun for him and makes missions easier.

Gaz workouts usually span from 30-45 minutes. His core is insanely strong. Hes most proud of his shoulders, pecs, and abs. The pump is insane. Since his workout is high intensity he only works out 4 days out of the week. Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday. On quota he prefers to workout in the morning before the normal work day. If he cant make the morning time frame he works out during Chow with Soap. LOVES BEACH RUNS. Especially seeing the sunrise!!

An example of his workout consists of a 2mile run, 20sec High Knees, 20sec Side Straddle Hops, 20sec High Knees, 20sec Plank, 20sec High Knees, 20sec Plank, and then 30sec High Knees. He does everything but the run four times. Super repetitive but has him dead and sweaty by the end.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

High protein diet. Beware the beef farts. Not as consistent as Gaz when it comes to meal prepping. Ghost tends to lean towards protein shakes and protein bars in a pinch when hes feeling lazy. Hes the type to cook when hes hungry and then survive on leftovers. Improvised meal prepping? The officer barracks have a huge fridge anyways so it always works out. Ghost would eat the same thing everyday if you let him. His main staples are whey, eggs, turkey or chicken, and milk. Rice and chicken type of gymbro. Also, he tries to drink over a gallon of water a day. He allows cheats days whenever you come over or hes hanging out with the boys.

Ghost focuses on Hypertrophy training which focuses on muscle on developing and growing muscle mass. Its moderate when it comes to weight and reps. Always lifting weights, even with pullups hell put on a waist band with weight or wear his flak with plates. He does go for personal records once a week for fun. Simon hates running. It hurts his knees and feet like nothing else. For endurance he just swims or uses the stationary bike.

His workout time depends on how much time he has. The max time he’d spend in the gym is 3 hours and the minimum time would be 45 minutes. Always in the evening time during the week. On the weekends he goes in the morning. Cardio days are an hour minimum. Unless he’s actually running then its however long it takes him to run 4 miles. Ghost is most proud of his shoulders, chest, and arms. He sweats so much its insane. Always brings a small gym bag. Inside is his squat belt, athletic tape, pre-workout, his shaker with protein for after, change of clothes, and rag. Dry scoops his preworkout to be cool tbh.

Simon works out everyday expect Sunday and Monday. Mondays are usually filled with meetings and paperwork. It rots his brain but, thats what being an officer is when you aren’t in the field. When he’s out in the field stacking bodies he looses so much weight. Its so hard to maintain and good diet and drink lots of water. He maintains a lot of muscle but he becomes leaner. An example of one of his workouts is 3x12 Bent over one arm row, 2x till failure pullups, 3x12 inverted row body weight, 4x12 Bench Press, 2x till failure Chest Dips, 3x12 Arnold Press, 3x12 Bicep curls, 3x12 skullcrushers, and 3x12 lateral raise. All moderate weight. If he goes heavy he goes lower reps. Ghost makes sure to stretch before and after working out. He wont skip stretching no matter what.

1845 - Venue doors open

1900 - Cocktail Hour

2000 - Cocktail Hour ends all bars are closed

2005 - 5 Minute warning for the ceremony

2010 - Ceremony begins

2100 - Ceremony ends

2110 - Dinner service starts and Bars reopen

2200 - Dance floor opens / DJ starts

0130 - Venue doors close

Okay now that we have the schedule down. Lets list all the Marines in COD. Were gonna pretend everyone's alive and in the same unit for tonight. Whos going to be your date for tonight? Skip past the photo when you're ready.

All unnamed Marines <3 (damn npcs)

-MARSOC Marines, 2nd MarDiv

1st FRP (MW1) Source for info below click here and here (<- Has character pictures as well for some)

-Lt Vasquez, Cpt Pelayo, Sgt Paul Jackson, SSgt Griggs, Pvt Massey, Pvt West, Pvt Royzewicz, LCpl Lopez, and LCpl Gaines

DRT Stalker Units With Air Squadrons (All games) Information Source click here

Cpl Baker, Sgt Baker, Capt Weston, Cpt Keating, and Lt Volker

GHOSTS Platoon prior Force Recon Platoon (COD GHOSTS) Information Source click here

Sgt Keegan Russ, Sgt Alex Johnson, and Cpt Gabe Rorke

Lemme know if I forgot anyone!!

Okay, you have your date or friend group that you're going with. You as the guest are in your formal attire. Lets get this party started! (Every year and in every venue its the same setup, same ceremony, and same food)

1845-1900

You show up to the venue with your date. The ball room is set. There are about a dozen round tables draped with a beautiful white table cloth. There is a round red and gold table cloth in the center of the table. On it sits two pitchers one with water and the other with iced sweet tea. In front of each seat is a set of silverware for each course, a wine glass, a water/tea glass, a pamphlet with tonight's events, and a neatly folded napkin. Each section is sat with each other. A chair left empty next to your Marine for you of course.

Usually the Commanding Officer or Executive Officer will put money down for everyone to get one free drink. The venue offers two bars. Both the lines are a bit long but you can just chat while you wait. There plenty of people to be introduced too and everyone is saying "Happy Birthday" to each other. If you're stationed in an allied country like Japan there are guests from their military as well.

The bar has a wide variety. Wine, shots, mixed drinks, and juice if you arent drinking. They even sell cigars. You and your date get your drinks and socialize. You get to meet their peers and squad members. This is also the time to take pictures! You walk towards the entrance of the venue with your date. There is always a professional Photographer waiting. The American flag and Marine Corps flag are proudly displayed in front of a royal red backdrop. The backdrop has accents of gold.

The photographer asks if you want their pictures or just on your phone. You both pose and smile. The pictures came out amazing. Your Marine will take some photos with their shop and then you'll head back into the venue. Another drink?

2005

Man that hour went by fast! The five minute warning has just been called. You and your Marine go to your seats and wait for the ceremony to begin.

2010

The ceremony starts. Everyone is seated and quiet. There's always one rushing back to their seat from the bathroom. (You can watch a full ceremony from last year here but im going to summarize it. Im speaking from my experience overseas but the video is stateside Marine Corps)

The band does their introduction segment commencing the start of the ceremony. The march forward turn and march back. Next comes the sword detail. There are 4 pairs that walk through. There are both Enlisted Marines and Officers in the sword detail. They march in pairs to their position and once are all in place the Commanding Officer, Sergeant Major, and XO march past the sword detail to the front of the stage. Everyone stands when they walk by to show respect. Next comes the color guard with the American Flag and Marine Corps flag and two rifles march onto stage. Everyone stays standing to honor the colors are they pass. The National Anthem is played followed by Anchors Away and then the Marine Corps Hymn. Which every Marine sings!!

The cake is then marched onto stage while the band plays. A traditional speech is made. Then the CO cuts the cake with the NCO sword giving a slice to the guest speaker. The another slice to the oldest Marine. The oldest Marine takes a fork full and passes it to the youngest Marine for a fork full. This symbolizes the passing of traditions!

After that the color guard marches off stage followed by the cake detail and oldest and youngest Marine. The CO, XO, and SgtMaj exit the stage. Then the sword detail. The guest speaker will then give their speech and then the birthday message will play. I have it linked below. It was fire this year!!

2110

The ceremony ends and the bars open. Half the Marines there rush to the bathroom and the other half to the bar. The venue staff start to bring out a shrimp cocktail appetizer. After 15 minutes they bring out a salad. Then after about another 15 minutes they bring out the main course. There are four options chicken, steak, fish, and vegetarian.

2200 - 0130

The dance floor opens. You are free to leave at this time if you want. The venue service starts clearing off the tables and the DJ starts playing music. Marines go outside to smoke cigars others hit the bar for the 4-5th time. The dance floor gets crazy. The CO will even bust some moves on the dance floor. Medals come off so no one looses them (Plus they are so freaking expensive) and everyone has fun till the venue closes.

I hope you enjoyed your ball <3

Happy Birthday Marines!! Semper Fi

Military Lingo Key:

Section - who you work with basically

Sword detail - you can read about that tradition here

Nikto looked around him, a cold gaze on his face which was covered by his mask. He looked for any possible escape. The pain in his leg shot up to his knee and hips. “You got me, but at what cost?” Nikto barked out in a cocky tone. You roll your eyes and put more weight on your knee in the small of his back. He winced but he still managed to force out a chuckle. You gave a quick nod. Immediately after, two men squat down to slide a hand through the gap by his arm pits. You back off as they lifted him up, holding him so he could put weight on his good leg. Nikto swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. He was in so much pain he wanted to cry. Glancing back at him, you turned to one of your men with a radio. “Call the medic for his injuries. I want them on the aircraft before we evac.” You said as you walked away towards the extraction point just outside. The man nods and calls it in on the radio.

Nikto hopped over while being supported by the two men. His wrist ached from the cuffs being put on too tight. Tears prick his eyes from the pain in each jump. They make it to the extraction point where a V-22 can be seen approaching. Nikto lets his head fall down in front of him. He stared at the ground trying to collect himself. He would hide it well but Nikto was panicking. Last time he was caught like this he was tortured. Americans don’t torture, right? He sucked in a sharp breath, noticing he had forgotten to breathe. He felt betrayed by his own leg and how it would make his escape almost impossible.

You walk onto the aircraft talking to the necessary people. They are all asking what information to report back to base. Nikto is forced onto the aircraft. The two men that escorted him seated him down and secured all his limbs except his leg to the seat. They buckle his waist and overhead chest straps. After speaking to at least 10 people, you went and sat across from him. Crossing your legs and arms to glare at him. He returns the look with a cold and dirty look.

A young medic walks over to the two of you. He had just left his schoolhouse, so he was brand new to hitting the fleet. His name tape reads “Pellet”. Nikto watches Pellet closely as he speaks to him. “Good Afternoon Ma’am! I'm here to assess your injuries.” Pellet chirps out. You smile and reassure him youre okay and point to Nikto seated behind Pellet. Pellet basically turns in one hop motion to face Nikto while saying “oh”.

Pellet kneels and smiles at Nikto as he explains to him his rights under the Geneva Convention. Nikto zones out. Occasionally, giving you dirty looks. Pellet clears his voice and says “I'm going to have to cut your pants to assess your leg.” Nikto nods and says nonchalantly “Fine. Just do it quickly.” Pellet nods and pulls out a syringe and fabric scissors. Nikto watches him, his body stiff in fear that hell would bump his injury. Pellet starts with Nikto's ankle and stops cutting at just above his knee. Damn, he's white. You smile thinking about how you could tease him about how he should go get a tan. Pellet continues his work by sliding his pants a bit higher to expose his thigh. He carefully injects the morphine. Pellet moves his attention down to the break. It looked disgusting. All black and blue plus it was swollen. Pellet took down notes and stated that “I'm thinking transverse fracture in the fibula” You both look at him confused. “What” You both say at the same time reacting in a glare towards each other. Pellet lightly runs his finger about 3/4th down Niktos shin. “Clean break right here. I need an X-Ray when we get back for sure.” Nikto winces at the touch.

“This is going to hurt or feel very uncomfortable but the morphine should help.” Pellet states as he takes out a SAM Splint. (A split used in field military care. It looks like a big slap bracelet that doesn't bend.) Nikto looks at the roof and squeezes his eyes shut. He didn't want anyone touching his leg. It hurt to the point where it made him mad. Pellet wiped down Nikto and applied the SAM splints on both sides. Nikto was clenching his jaw so hard he thought he would break his teeth. Pellet quickly wrapped it up with field dressing and some athletic tape to secure it. Pellet stood up admiring his work. “All done.” He said, turning to face you. You dismiss Pellet and stand up to walk away. Pellet injects more Morphine into Nikto. He can feel his body relax. It makes him tiered almost.

The aircraft takes off. Nikto overhears it's a long flight back to the U.K. then they will fly to the states. Pellet comes around periodically to inject more morphine. Nikto falls asleep. Bad dreams and memories still cloud his dreams. Nikto's eyes fluttered open to someone running by. He groans and looks over to the cockpit where a small crowd stands. He can see you talking to the pilots. There were a lot of arguments and beeping noises all at once. Nikto listens to what he can. You grab the radio and speak on it in a serious but worried tone. “This aircraft is on humanitarian order and is carrying civilians. Stand down.” He hears you repeat it multiple times. A man stands next to you barking orders at the other men to take their seats and strap him. The aircraft jerks to the side. You repeat yourself on the radio before the pilots tell you to strap in.

​You rush to sit by Nikto, immediately pulling the shoulder straps over you. “You fucking bastard.” You bark at Nikto, who is looking at you blankly. He says nothing as you buckle the last remaining straps. You look at him disgusted. “Who did you call?!” Niktos' eyes changed to an expression of shock. “Me?! I've been tied to this chair!” He says, annoyed. His accent was getting thicker with anger. You scoff “You aren’t getting away from me again. I'm turning you in no matter what.” You grab the straps on your chest and squeeze your eyes shut as the aircraft jolts. Nikto notices your knuckles turning white from squeezing. You being worried makes him become worried. He goes to poke you but he is quickly reminded his hands are restrained to the seat. “What is happening?!” He demands, looking at the agent and Pellet who is seated across from them. Nikto didn't even notice him buckling in. Pellet was crying…? No one answered him.

It all happened in seconds. A loud bang. Heat. Cold air slapped him in the face. The whiplash. Then there was blood in his eyes. His heart felt like it was going to explode. He couldnt breathe, the pressure was so great. Blurring his vision. Sharp pain hitting his leg from getting hit with debris made him scream out in pain. Light. Then dark.

…

Nikto woke up slowly to a red flashing light and silence. A headache hit him. He could feel his head pulsing. He felt strange until he realized he was upside down. The blood rushing to his head didn't help. You were still strapped in next to him unconscious. Across from him Pellet was- Nikto wanted to vomit. He had to look away. Pellet's head was completely gone along with one of his legs. A disgusting blood mess. Nikito's vision starts to blur and blacken. The headache. The blood rush was so uncomfortable, almost painful. His leg was completely numb. A second later, he was unconscious again.

-

Military Lingo Key

V-22 Osprey- its like helicopter half plane. Pretty sketchy. Super loud when flying and bumpy.

-Let's say everyone lived in the barracks. Even though Price, as Captain, would get base housing and Ghost would be in the officer barracks...anyways, you and the boys heard about the hurricane from Price. Apparently, this is going to be the worst storm the island has seen in a few years. They say that about every typhoon though.

-Ghost immediately went to the commissary (on-base grocery store), but he didn't get any good snacks. He just got stuff to meal prep in case the power went off. His idea of snacks is high protein snacks. The man loves to bulk up and maintain that muscle. Lots of protein bars... will 100% mention how he has to make up tonight at the gym.

-You and Gaz got stuck at work. "The typhoon doesn't dismiss you, I do." It's already starting to rain, and the wind is picking up. So much for staying dry. Gaz completely forgot to charge his portable batteries, even though you had a few days' warning before the storm. You’re pretty sure you have an extra!

-Price took his work home. He has a few mission reports to type up that can't wait. The commanding officer is waiting for them to review. #Officerthings So he took his laptop back to work until the power goes off. If it goes off.

-Soap managed to get off work before you and Gaz. He went straight to the gas station exchange (names of the stores on base) to stock up on snacks. There wasn't much left, but he grabbed everything that looked good. Some chips, ramen,and the last case of beer left!! Better than eating the MREs they hand out for typhoons. You’ll be constipated for days if you eat those…

-Finally, you and Gaz were let out of work and sped back to the barracks. You both took it upon yourselves to park really close to both sides of Soaps car. Don’t want the storm to blow it away! Changing into civilian attire, you both met in the hallway. Ghost and Soap were already together, hanging out in the room. They were quick to open the door as soon as they heard the knock.

-Soap definitely has the hangout room, along with Gaz. Gaz's room is more for drinking and playing cards all night, while Soap's is geared towards movie nights or typhoon campouts. The snacks lay displayed on his desk, and the fridge is full of beer and drinks. Not allowed to drink during a typhoon though. So soda and juice it is. Maybe one beer

-Price is the last to show up. He's been in the barracks for a while, but he wanted to finish that paper. All of you pick a spot on the couch or sit on Soap's bed to watch the movie. The wind howls outside, and the wind slaps the window. We'll definitely have tomorrow off.

-

This thing is literally edging us i want it to hit already so I can go outside!!!!!! Hopefully my motorcycle doesnt blow away or tip over….

There is absolutely no r*pe in the fic i posted. The non consensual aspect of it is Nikto entering the readers personal space, touching of the hand/shoulder/thigh. Everything sexual is consensual. Could i have explained it better in the tags yes. But it does not prompt what is basically cyber bullying to occur. It is my first NSFW post in the entire history of my account 2017-present.

Also people complaining its NSFW its a NSFW post???

Now addressing @cssndra-cain

This had all started two days into the reactivation of my blog. They had posted this.

** CRAZYYYY i go back to take a screenshot of the post and its fucking GONEE. It was a screenshot of my Character Introduction for Nikto. It was basically just talking shit.

At the time MY @ for this blog was in the # portion of the post. My like four followers reached out to me bringing this to my attention. I was almost finished with my fic so I decided to be petty back and send this meme

In no way shape or form does it say what the post is about, the nsfw, the contents, NOTHING. You are absolutely mad if you think i went to read your blog and ur entire life story after you calling me out under hashtags. I am honest to god regretting not taking screenshots of the chat because it was deleted either when they changed their name or blocked me. I dont know or care how tumblr DMS work.

If ur gonna post screenshots post the entire conversation because me stating “dont be sensitive” was referring to the mass amount of nsfw content under tumblr and under the COD fandom. I stated to them in DM there was no r*pe content involved and that it was just touching or him entering the readers personal space. I made sure to directly update it after having this conversation with the other user.

They then proceeded to reblog a post mentioned pedo****a and put MY blog in the hashtags. How the fuck am i a pedo*****e making a NSFW scenario about a man that is well over 20 maybe even 30? Please tell me.

This user then proceeded to remove the hashtags that mentioned me and made the post below

I will personally provide you the link if you want it.

In this post they completely bash my account and LIE about our interaction. Saying that, and i quote

“The author who DMed me even invalidated how much I found rape disturbing by saying “well there’s worse rape fics on here” and saying that I’m too sensitive to be on tumblr.”

Post the entire conversation because this is utter bullshit. All i sent was the meme.

“Imagine telling someone with any kind of past of sexual violence, that they’re too sensitive for the internet “

Because yes, (and this is sarcasm if you are dense) i totallly reviewed this persons account and knew their entire back story of trauma.

Then we have the user’s commenting who dont even BOTHER to check the other side of the story. You would think at the age of 16 or over (tumblr’s age requirement) you would understand that people say shit they way they want you to hear it. There is two sides to each story. If you are that easily influenced and dont do your research after seeing a post on the internet i am genuinely worried.

Then what gets me the most is this person continues to mention me in post. At what point does this become bullying?? You probably wont even read this because you want to feel in the right. Almost your entire blog is complaining about NSFW and how it triggers you like the author is supposed to know. You should probably turn on the NSFW filter. Please message me and i can show you how step by step.

I do not condone or support r*pe sexual assault or pedo****a. You read a NSFW post and got mad it was NSFW.

Im tagging everyone i dont care. If ur gonna call me horrible things, send death threats fucking read this.

Since ur post mentioned things I should learn. Hopefully you learn from this. Dont call people out if you don’t expect the truth to come out. Because i aint the one to take shit talking.

@ghostsaop @fury-under-night @collinnmckinley

@snikimobius @bjahfler @obligatoryghoststare @freshlemontea @romancedeldiablo

^insane most of you guys are late 20s early 30s

I will not be replying to comments or other post im done and i simply do not care anymore i am going to continue writing.

For my followers who are just enjoying my writing. Thank you and i love writing for yall. This will be the only drama post on my account and after 12 hours i will be adding a “read more” so it isnt blocking my content.

*me when i read a marked NSFW post and theres NSFW*

Summary: Reader gets on plane. Nikto sits next to them aggressively flirting. They argue. They mutually pin each other. They both get horny. Nikto as permission to kiss reader. They kiss. Nikto ask permission to orally touch reader. They orally touch each other. Nikto asks reader if its okay to p in v. They sex. Nikto cleans up and it ends. 😐

You felt someone sit in the seat next to you, causing your eyes to shoot open. You were met with a pair of blue eyes that quickly looked away - it was the masked man from earlier. You watched as he sat down and buckled in, staring at you blankly before letting out a deep breath from his nose. "Privet, you're in my seat," he said clearly annoyed, his voice raspy and thick with a Russian accent. You chuckled and shook your head, thinking to yourself that he couldn't be serious. "This is my seat," he stated once more, rolling his eyes at you. "And you're in it." His heavily accented voice had a hint of gravel in it. You looked at him next to you, genuinely confused, and he stared back with the same expression. Blinking several times, you asked, "You're joking, right...?" Your smile was unsure. The man shifted closer to you, leaning on the armrest in an attempt to intimidate you. "No, I'm not," he replied sternly, rolling his eyes. "That is my seat. Give it back." He looked at you, then at the seat you were sitting in. You laughed and smiled at him again, shaking your head in disbelief. "Dude, there are like 30 other seats, and you're telling me this one is yours?" You got comfortable in your seat, crossing your arms.

His expression suddenly changes to a cold and calculating one. He pushes himself to lean on the armrest again and leans into your personal space, saying sternly, "I want that seat. Now." Your smile drops and turns into a disgusted expression. "You are ridiculous," you let out a few mumbles while standing up and throwing your seat belt to the side. Standing there for a moment, he doesn't move even though his shoulder is visibly blocking your exit. "Move," you say, leaning your stomach against the chair in front of you so you could squeeze out. He doesn't budge, glaring at you through the eye slits of his mask. "Sit now," he demands, pointing to the seat you were just sitting in seconds ago.

You scoff and reply with an attitude, "No, you made me get up," forcing yourself halfway past his shoulder, not caring if your back and ass rub against him. "Sit," he commands as if he were talking to a dog. You ignore him, trying to push through when he grabs your leg closest to the window. "We can do this the difficult way or the easy way." Your leg is gripped by his hand, his fingers digging into your skin through the pants when he begins pulling on it. "Don't touch me, asshole," you hiss at him, placing your hand against his head to push him away. Losing your balance, you fall back half on the armrest and half on his lap. You wince from the armrest hitting you. That's definitely going to leave a bruise. The masked man pushes you off of him, landing you back into your seat. You look at him with daggers in your eyes. He looks back at you with pure malice as he leans back into his seat. You look around in disbelief that this is happening. "Why would you take my seat? To annoy me?" he asks in a low, threatening tone. You clench your jaw in rage. He shakes his head, looking forward, and says, "I am surprised that you do not know better."

"No way, this guy is serious," you think to yourself as your body shoots up out of the seat. "Move!" you spit out as you try to force yourself past him, body-checking him. Without warning, he stands up and grabs your shoulder, slamming you back into the seat. It's enough to force the wind out of you. "Sit down," he says as he sits back down, his hand still on your shoulder. With each passing second, his grip tightens. You gasp as a bit of saliva flies out with the air being forced out of your lungs. You sit for a moment in the seat, filled with pure rage. "You motherfucker!" you yell as your fist connects with the side of his mask over his cheekbone. Just as fast as you threw the punch, his other hand comes up and grabs a fistful of your hair.

Suddenly, the curtain separating the front and back side of the plane flies open. Your squad leader for this mission is standing there, looking infuriated. "Nikto, (Y/C), shut the fuck up," she demands, her voice beaming. The hand tangled in your hair loosens, and you look down to meet an unfazed look. "Nikto," you repeat in your head. His eyes look ice-cold, dead even, and they bore into your own. He is breathing heavily through his nose from the adrenaline rush, and he doesn't break the glare, waiting for you to act. You sit back down, practically growling at each other. The squad leader still stands by the curtain, watching us. "So you think I'm fucking joking, right?" she yells at us from where she stands. You both let go of each other and sit in your seats. You wish he would move, even if it was just one seat over. The squad leader leaves, closing the curtain again. "Fuck you," you whisper to him so the squad leader doesn't come back. "Suka," Nikto retorts in Russian under his breath. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. You turn your body and head away from him and face the window. You were just going to let it go.

The man leaned his head back, relaxing his body for the first time. "Fine... You can keep the seat," he spoke in a neutral tone. "I did not want that seat in the first place." Nikto turned towards you, rolling his eyes. "I was merely annoyed that you thought it would be okay to take my seat." Your blood boiled as he continued. Turning to him almost instantly, you whispered in a hiss, "I wasn't going to fucking move anyway," completely ignoring how you were going to move earlier. "You sat by me," you said in a whisper with an attitude, dragging out the words before turning to face the window again. Nikto gave you a death stare. His expression was blank, his blue eyes boring into yours. "So? Is it a problem that I sat next to you?" he asked bluntly with a slight hint of sarcasm. You shook your head annoyed. "You just want the last word, don't you?" you forced yourself to say in a calm voice. A hint of a smug grin crossed his face before it returned to normal. "Yes," he whispered with a cocky smirk on his face. You clenched your jaw. "Okay, fine," you hissed out to get the last word, shrugging your shoulders. "They go low, I go lower," you thought to yourself.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "So childish," Nikto whispered to himself before chuckling. A smirk crossed his face as his gaze was set back onto you once again. "I like you," he whispered. A laugh came out of you in disbelief as you turned to him again. "Me? Childish but you-" you groaned out and rolled your eyes. You took out your anger by pushing your legs against the seat in front of you. He leaned in closer to you once again, whispering with a smile and a little sparkle in his blue eyes. "Yes. You. I found your childishness to be quite amusing," he said with a smug smirk. "And you have spunk, unlike all these other soldiers in this plane."

"Too close," you say, cutting him off while holding up your hand between the both of you, ignoring what he says. He puts his hand up too, touching yours. Nikto's skin is warm against yours, yet his expression remains neutral and cold. He leans in even closer, his face now only inches away from yours. "Oh? Too close?" he whispers. Your hand retracts in surprise from the sudden touch. You return your hand to your lap and turn your face towards the window, away from him. "You stink," you hiss out in hopes he'll back off. He doesn't budge, the masked eyes pierce through yours as he continues leaning in. His body is now pressed against yours. "You know I don't," he whispers, slowly raising his free hand to your shoulder. "...And you smell nice, in case you were wondering." He smirks. You feel your face heat up from second-hand embarrassment. "I'm going to punch you again," you bluntly state, not looking at him. "Oh? Try it," he murmurs, pressing himself into you even closer than before. "I dare you," he whispers out. Not a moment later, you turn your body towards him. You shove him back into the seat next to you. "You are literally in my seat," you yell, annoyed and angry. Nikto sits in the seat for a moment, only to enter your personal space again. "You think you are intimidating me?" he whispers in a deep, seductive tone. "If you keep behaving like this, I will not hesitate to teach you a lesson." You don't say anything and start to sweat. He smirks.

He leans in even more, pressing his face right up to yours. "Can I kiss you? Just a tiny one? Please?" he whispers seductively, glancing down at your soft, flushed lips. Who does this guy think he is? You don't take a second more to shove your palm over his face and push away with all your force. Niktos hands fly up to cover his nose, which is now in pain. You watch to see if he wants more. "Oh? Just a little love tap? How cute," he whispers seductively, still covering his nose. "Can I have a second one? Please?" He grabs your wrist. "I want you to hit me again." You blank out, shocked by his response. You have no words. He stares at you, smiling at your reaction. He gives you a smug look, still holding your wrist and leaning in closer to you. "But I'm not done with you yet." You rip your wrist out of his hand, turning your head away to look out the window. He rolls his eyes at you. "Don't turn away from me like that," he hisses, his voice like butter. "Keep looking into my eyes or I will make you look back." When you threaten to hit him again, he flinches and then chuckles. "You're a dangerous one," his tone full of anger before his expression returns to neutral. "Don't do that again." He stares at you as you look out the window. He forces a sigh out, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms once again. You just flick him off as a response.

A few minutes pass with the two of you ignoring each other. He speaks again, whispering softly with a mischievous grin, "You know what I think? Your middle finger is cute." You facepalm yourself in frustration and snap at him, "Don't you have anything better to do?!" You stand up to climb over the plane seat, but he forcefully slams you against the window, causing you to hit your head and fall back into the seat. Your left leg is propped up on the armrest and the other rests on the floor, and he moves closer to you, propping your left leg over his shoulder and pinning your other leg down with his own. He whispers seductively, "This is where I wanted to be the whole time. With you." The plane rumbles with turbulence, and he tries to calm you down, but you try to wiggle out of the uncomfortable position. He places his fingers on your chin to turn your face to his and says, "Don't fight it. I have not even begun to show you the full extent of my desires." You notice the hard bulge in his pants and ask, "What are you doing?" He leans over you, brushing his face against your neck and whispering sensually in your ear, "Oh, I know..." You look at him confused and ask, "Know what...?"

He continues to hold you in place, a cocky smile on his face and eyes filled with a certain amount of madness. You can practically see the sparks flying between you and him right now. "Your body's response to me...the way you're feeling..." He continues whispering seductively in your ear, letting your mind fill in the blanks. "My pretty little soldier...I know everything." He leans in even closer, his mouth practically touching your ear. "Do not deny it." His words linger in your mind, repeating over and over again. You can feel yourself getting wet, his hard length pushing against your thigh. You look down at it pressing against you.

He continues to grind against you, holding your thighs tightly. "Don't worry about that," he says, pulling you closer to him. His lips are now on your neck. "I want to be as close to you as possible," he whispers seductively. You try to move away, but you're backed up against the plane window. His hand slides up your body, over your hip bone, and cups your side. His thumb grazes the underside of your breast. You grab his wrist with your right hand to stop him from advancing. He smirks, noticing your movement. "You can't keep me away from you, no matter how hard you try," he says, his voice filled with madness and passion. He cups the underside of your breast, and you let out a breath you had been holding. You don't stop him from continuing. He squeezes your breast hard, prompting you to moan. His hand moves back down to cup the underside of your breast. "Let me make you feel good," he whispers sensually, the madness in his voice mixing with pure passion.

Sitting back, he moves his hips to the right and grinds against your clothed area. Your wet panties press against you, and your body reacts to the new position. Your hips buck against his length as he moves back over to the left. Your pussy aches for the friction to return, and your body feels warm against his as he gives your side a little squeeze once again. He stares into your eyes for a moment, taking in your face, and moves close to you again. His mouth is practically a few inches away from yours, and he whispers, "Can I have a kiss? Just a little one?" His voice is deep and seductive. "Please?" Your breath is heavy and staggered, and you glance at where his lips would be under his mask, squeezing your eyes shut and looking away. Your cheek now faces him, and you're still putting up a fight. You were enjoying this too much. "Don't look away," he whispers in your ear, his voice filled with pure seduction. His hand moves up to your cheek and trails downward to gently turn your face to his. "You are far too beautiful for me not to kiss you, my pretty little soldier." His voice fills you with a certain amount of madness, passion, and sensuality. Holding your face where he wants it, he presses his covered lips against yours. Your lips burn against his, and your top lip fits perfectly under his. The cloth keeps you from actually touching, but he tries to deepen the kiss by moving his hand behind your neck, maintaining the pressure. His other hand, which had been resting on your hip, moves to your upper inner thigh. You want him to keep going, and your kisses become more desperate. Noticing this, he lightly runs his thumb over your clothed area, starting from the bottom and going up slowly over your clit. Your hips buckle when you feel the light pressure over your clit, and you moan in his mouth. He grins beneath his mask and moves the hand that had been on your neck to grab a handful of your hair. His fingers dig into your hair, pulling it as his other hand continues to lightly touch you through your pants. Your buck rubs against him the second time he goes over his thumb, making contact with your aching clit. He groans into your mouth, and the grip on your hair tightens. Your scalp stings, but it feels good. "I like it when you're feisty like this. It means you're willing to play along with my little games..." His voice is filled with the madness, passion, and sensuality he feels as he continues to kiss you passionately. You both moan throughout the kiss. This is torture.

He lifts his mouth away from yours to gasp for air, his mask now wet from making out. He sighs as you both take a moment to breathe, his fingers moving down your cheek and away from your hair. "So, this is what you want," he says softly, his voice full of desire. He lifts his mask slightly, his mouth now right next to your ear. "How does your mind work? Do you want me to stop? Keep going? Something in between?" He nibbles your ear and leans his body into you further as he speaks. You shudder, feeling how close he is and the heat radiating from his skin. You want to feel his bare lips against yours. He moves his face to hover right over yours again, and you take in the little bit of his face he's showing you. His lips and chin are covered in scars and what looks like a burn, the deepest one trailing up through his top lip. The hand he has on your cheek becomes softer, and he caresses your cheek with his thumb, looking at you. "I want to hear you begging for me," he says, breaking the silence. His head shifts to the side a bit, waiting for your reaction, and his thumb pauses at the corner of your mouth. "Tell me what you want," he says, waiting. Your brain is at war with your body, but you want to see where this goes. You want more.

His lips slowly move forward to touch yours, interrupting your train of thought. At first, it's just a light kiss, but with each passing moment, his lips press against yours with more passion. He groans as his fingers continue to run through your hair. "What's got my pretty little puppy all worked up?" His voice is filled with a certain amount of sadism. "Can you only make noises now, or do you still remember how to speak and be a big girl?" He chuckles before whispering seductively. "Tell me you want more." He sits back, focusing on your hips. You watch as he slowly rubs himself at the same pace he's touching you, his lips parting to gasp and let out quiet moans. "I want you to touch me more," you say quietly, embarrassed by your own words and desires. Your hips press against the hand that's palming you. He chuckles, seeing how desperate you've become.

"Where do you want me to touch you, love?" His whispers filled you with an incredible amount of madness and passion. "Be specific. After all, I have many different parts to choose from." His hand that was rubbing himself moved up to grab your breast. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You were trying your best to keep your moans quiet. You arched your back in an attempt to close the distance. You wanted to be able to feel how hard he was against your pussy. This teasing was driving you insane. "Say you want more," he said, giving you what you wanted and completely closing the distance. His hard dick pressed against your aching pussy. It felt amazing. He moaned, leaning forward. He started to untuck your shirt, placing his bare hands on your sides. His bare touch sent lightning through your body. "I-I want more," you said desperately. Nikto's eyes lit up. "Good girl," he said in a cocky tone. He kissed you deeply once again, nibbling your lips as he did. His hand slowly moved lower as he moved your shirt over both your breasts. "Черт. Ты выглядишь вкусно," he mumbled. He ran his hand over the soft material of your bra. Bringing your hand up, you cupped your own breast, squeezing it how you liked. Your actions caught him off guard, but he found it incredibly attractive. He watched as you cupped yourself, smiling to himself. Then, he nodded towards them. "May I?" he whispered seductively and with the tiniest hint of affection. He slowly moved his hand towards your chest. "If yes, please give me permission to touch them bare." You shyly nodded, reaching out and grabbing his hand, placing it over your breast, wanting him to do whatever he wanted to you. He moved his hand down and off your bra and then quickly moved under it. You moaned, feeling his bare hands finally touching your tits. Nikto ran his thumb lightly over your hard nipple. You gasped, feeling him run over and roll it between his fingers. He pulled the bra completely up, balling it with your shirt. Sitting up, he let your leg slip between the seat and his side. It felt good to not have it propped up anymore. It rested on his hip. He ran his hands back over your thighs, hips, and then he took both your tits in his hand. You watched as he leaned forward, putting the weight on his elbows and shoulders. "Such a good girl," he said with a smile before moving down to gently lap one of your nipples. He watched your reaction as he started to suckle you. Your hips bucked against him multiple times. Nikto took his time on each tit, leaving them wet and hot. Lapping, sucking, and biting at them. He let go of one of your breasts and started to rub himself through his pants. He moaned against your skin. The vibrations added to your pleasure.

He chuckles and sits up, taking deep breaths. He watches, taking in how much of a mess you are. His pants have wet spots from the precum leaking out of him. You bite your lip as he runs his pointer finger across the waistband of your pants. He looks at you, awaiting your permission once more. "Would you like me to...unzip it?" He whispers seductively. His eyes stare at you from under his mask, but you can only stare at his lips and chin. Nikto leans in, gladly accepting the kisses. The feeling of your lips on his sends a pleasant feeling through him. He smiles devilishly as you pull him in for another kiss. "You're so needy," he whispers in between the kisses. "So hungry for more." His hand goes back to pawing at your breast. "Is this what you want?" His voice is a whisper, pleasure dripping from his words. His hand continues to reach for the button on your jeans. His hand grabs the button of your jeans and begins to slowly undo it. It pops off with ease. His breath is hot, and his eyes still on your face. A faint moan leaves his lips. But he doesn't want to make this go too fast. It would be no fun to let it. "You're so greedy. I can't go from one second to the next." His lips press against your knee. He starts to unzip your pants, pulling them down and over your ass. You pull one of your legs out of the pants. Nikto gasps as he sees how wet you are. Your panties have been completely soaked through. He smiles and runs his hand over the panties. "All this for me?" He asks, running the tip of his finger under the left side of the panty. You wanted him to touch you. You wanted to feel him stretch your pussy out. Anything he wanted. Your desires had taken over long ago. He looks back at your panting and red face, moving the material to the side. Your pussy was glossy and ready to be touched. The air felt cold. Taking his middle finger, he slowly flicked up between your walls, stopping right before your clit. Pulling his finger away from you, it was covered in your own precum, a string connecting your cunt to his finger. His breaths were heavy as he looked at your face again. He didn't know how much longer he could contain himself. He wanted to rip you apart.

Smirking, he brought his finger to his lips, signaling for her to be quiet. He returned his hand to your aching pussy and inserted a finger into you. You were basically drooling, finally having something in there. Nikto parted his lips in awe and started to move his finger in and out of you, curving it before it came out. You covered your mouth as he inserted another thick finger into you, pumping them in and out of you. You moaned into your hand, and he loved it.

"You must be so bad at this point," his voice almost a whisper, but his fingers were hard at work. He wanted to feel you tighten around his finger. You felt your body already being close to cumming. Before you could accept any more pleasure, he removed his fingers. You bucked your hips, wanting more. The empty feeling was driving you insane. You sat up, reaching for his belt, wasting no time undoing it. Nikto leaned back, panting, waiting for you to touch him. You unzipped his pants, revealing his navy blue boxers. His jeans hid how much precum had dripped out of him. He grabbed your hand, pushing it against his cock. You started to stroke through the underwear. He pushed your hand away, impatiently pulling his boxers down under his balls, exposing his cock. You smiled, reaching down to stroke up the precum, covering your hand. Nikto let his head fall back, finally being able to have you touch him. He wanted more. His hand moved up to your head, grabbing a handful of hair. You leaned down and placed the tip of him in your mouth. His head fell back again in pleasure, and he let out a long moan. His grip on your hair loosened. Nikto looked back down, his blue eyes making eye contact with you as you slowly slid his full length into your mouth. You pumped his cock in and out of your mouth. He guided your head up and down, moaning and mumbling things in Russian. His cock twitched in your mouth, his moans and the way he grabbed your hair telling you he was close. He pulled you off his cock when he was getting close. He didn't want to cum yet. Nikto brought your head up to kiss him. His kisses were desperate and hungry. Your mouths were both covered in spit and precum. He kissed you passionately, pressing your face against his.

He breaks the kiss, gasping for air. “Lay down,” he demands. You lay back on the seat. He scoops up your leg, putting it over his shoulder again. Grabbing his own dick, he aligns himself with your opening. Your heart feels as if it will stop; the feeling is overwhelming. You buck against him, begging for him to start. Nikto rubs the tip between your folds, teasing you. He moves so he is hovering above you, his body weight all put on one arm. He takes his cock with his free hand and aligns it again, sticking the tip in. You both moan, your opening stretching to fit him in. Nikto brings both his elbows to each side of your head, leaning down on them. He rests his head on yours. He continues to slip himself into you slowly, finally going in all the way. His head taps your cervix. He whines, burying his head in your neck. You wrap your arms around him. He starts to move, taking deep strokes into you. 'You're so wet,' he moans in your ear, kissing your neck. The feeling of your bodies moving together sends a jolt through his mind. His body can't take it any longer. He pushes himself deeper and faster into you. He kisses you hard to hide your moans. You moan into each other's mouths. His fingers find their way into your hair, grabbing it in pleasure. You wrap your legs around him. Your eyes swell with tears from him hitting your cervix. It feels so good. He watches your facial expressions intensely. His moans mix with yours.

His mouth moves towards your ear, his breath desperate. "That's what I like to hear, my love," he says as he grabs your hips with one hand and starts to go faster. "I'll keep going as fast as your little body wants me to." He starts to make his movements faster and removes his hand from your hip to grab your hand. "Touch yourself so I can see," he commands as he sits up, still pumping into you. Your hand starts to rub your clit in pace with his thrusts, and he watches the tears roll down your cheeks. Your tears only make him go faster as he grabs your hips tightly, his face pressed against you. "Good girl," he grunts seductively as he moves himself even faster into you. You feel yourself building up to an orgasm, and he feels you tighten around him. It makes him cry out and lean forward, slamming his mouth against yours to hide your moans as you cum. His kisses are passionate and shaky as he pumps into you at a slower pace so you can ride out your orgasm. Your body twitches and constricts from cumming, you gasp and moan when he stops kissing you. Your heart is racing as he asks, "Did that feel good?" and kisses your neck before going back to your lips. His hips are still thrusting into yours at a steady pace, "Turn around for me," and removes himself from you. You find the energy to flip over, and he slaps your ass, watching it recoil from his strike. He exhales shakily and uses one hand to spread your ass, looking at your desperate pussy from the back. "Put your legs together," he says, lifting your leg up on the seat. He lines himself up with you again and slowly enters you, moaning and grabbing your ass, his nails digging into your skin. You bury your face in the seat as his next thrusts are hard, your ass slapping against his hips. He's practically drooling, watching your ass bounce against him, and he gives it another slap before laying down on your back. His strokes only get harder, and you can't hold in your moan. Your stomach hurts from how hard he's hitting your cervix, he reaches an arm around to cover your mouth, his grip strong to muffle your moans. Nikto breathes heavily and moans into your hair as he tries to push his seed deeper into you. He finally cums inside you, his entire body jerking as he moans and buries his face in your hair. His hand drops off your mouth as he manages a few more slow and weak thrusts into you before laying off you to catch his breath. He feels like he's going to pass out.

He sat up, pulling out of you. He watched as the cum oozed out of your cunt. He reached into his carry-on bag and pulled out an extra shirt. Nikto started to wipe his cum off himself and then off of you, even though most of it felt like it had been pumped into your stomach. The seatbelt light switched on, signaling that the aircraft was landing soon.

-

Privet = hello

(C/S) = call sign

Cannon Information:

Nikto (Neeek-toe) is a Operator in Spetsnaz for the Allegiance faction which is within the KorTac Organization. Basically hes a contractor for the contractors. Its cannon that he has facial scarring which is why he wears a mask. Not a turn off for me ah ha ha

So he isn’t necessarily a good guy like the 141 guys (even though now they’re considered war criminals I suppose) but he’s also not a bad guy. In summary, man does what he gets hired to do.

Anyways, after going AWOL in October 2022 from the Russian contracting military group he resurfaced in June 2023 (also the introduction of his character in the game). He resurfaced being the leader of a military group which was overtaking the Dutch city of Vondel.

On the Official Wiki he is only given two paragraphs of biography. You can read it here -> https://callofduty.fandom.com/wiki/Nikto

Also mentioned on the page [ for the COD Mobile universe ] is that theres cannon beef between Ghost and Nikto!! Yes, you heard me right. So on the wiki it is mentioned that Nikto was working for a guy named Templar. Whom is betrayed and killed by Ghost. Then when Ghost went after everyone else in the helicopter he shot Nikto. It was thought that Nikto died from the shot but he didnt….

Nikto reappears when he takes a group of people hostage and records a video explaining that the world has failed them and has left people like (Nikto) to beg and then fight over the scraps. Price (yes Price) tries to convince Nikto to let the hostages go and to basically chill out but Nikto wins by blowing up the building. With the hostages inside.

Okay maybe he has beef with all of 141… and is kinda a bad guy I can change him

SO then time passes and Nikto reappears again seeking a gun deal with a dude named Gunzo. Gunzo asks Nikto “why a man wanted on every continent, doesnt have guns” this pisses Nikto off. Nikto replies with “i dont need guns” then proceeds to buy the guns from Gunzo. Then Nikto gasses the fuck out of Gunzo and his men with Nova Gas. Nikto explains to Gunzo that the world is failing blah blah. He then goes on to brag about how he doesnt need a gas mask to breath like everyone else because hes that edgy and then he just executes Gunzo. We can fix him

Nikto disappears again only to reappear flying a F-85B Bullshark and leading a military riot. He then orders a attack on Prices convoy (video below) and basically down their helicopter. In the video below you can see small arms fire, an RPG, and then a finishing shot. Which was shot by Nikto’s aircraft. Okay maybe he is bad, we can fix him ?

Which you can watch here -> https://youtu.be/dDaCTCu82t0

In game bio from MW, CODM, and MW2

It is referenced in his bio MW and CODM that he has acute dissociative disorder. Which according to WebMD

“Dissociative disorders involve problems with memory, identity, emotion, perception, behavior and sense of self. Dissociative symptoms can potentially disrupt every area of mental functioning. Dissociation is a disconnection between a person’s thoughts, memories, feelings, actions or sense of who he or she is.”

Which is explained to be from when he was tortured by Mr. Z. That event is also where he got his facial scarring from. Although he is Russian; in current MW2 timeline his nationality and language is [ REDACTED ]. I was looking around on the internet for why and Reddit believes its due to current world current events/tension. Rewording to: we can accept and love him. I dont think we can fix him.

I don’t expect this post to get a lot of attention but for those who like it my requests are fully open ❤️

i will definitely be posting more Nikto content and what I think Nikto looks like and how he acts.

There would have to be some time spent getting to know Miguel in order to learn his body language and quirks. You would need to be able to distinguish between him being cold and snappy for no reason, and him being cold and snappy because he's hungry. A non-verbal communication link would develop between the two of you. If this doesn't happen, both of your feelings could be hurt because you wouldn't know each other's intentions.

Forgive and forget. Not holding grudges and being willing to talk about past arguments is vital. It will lead to growth in both of you and in your relationship. For example, let's say you both had a small disagreement in the morning and you met again for lunch. The air between you two is cool now. Being busy at work has left you both occupied with other worries or stressors. Now is the time you would bring up the disagreement. It is sometimes uncomfortable or can get heated again, but it is so important to both of you that it's talked about.

Sometimes talking about arguments felt like it went nowhere, but Miguel will remember how you voiced your opinions and will "correct" himself. He doesn't want you to leave him because of something stupid. It could be as small as having a disagreement about laundry being on the floor. Next time when he's taking off his clothes, he'll make sure they end up in the bin. It may cause him to roll his eyes or scoff in an annoyed manner, but it will still get done.

Setting boundaries is important. Miguel values your personal space and respects it above all else, which is a crucial aspect of your relationship. If there is something you don't like, speak up immediately. Miguel will not hesitate to express his own dislikes as well. It's important for both of you to show mutual respect.

You are as sassy as he is, and he loves it. However, don't expect him to tell you that. You keep him guessing, and if he makes a snarky remark, you give it right back. Sometimes, when you both go on a tangent, you can make him smile and lose his train of thought mid-sentence. You know you've won when he puts one hand on his hip and brings out the pointer finger. It's annoying, but so damn cute.

Rarely calls you by your name. When he does, it's either when he's serious or the moment is intimate. If you have a nickname, he's going to add "ito/ita" after it. Miguel will say the nicknames at work too. He can't help it. The majority are sweet like "amor" or "mi vida," but he also calls you "baboso/babosa." It's all backed by love, of course.

In private, touch is very important to him. Sometimes, an embrace means more than telling him you love him. If Miguel brings work home and is sitting at the table, going up and lightly kissing his head will absolutely melt him. Or, if he's cooking and you come up behind him and wrap your arms around him, the place where you made contact will always linger on him. It almost feels like there are a bunch of little butterflies flying and landing where you touched. He melts like chocolate in the summer sun.

There are times during the day, usually before bed, when he completely lets his walls down around you. This only happens in private when you're both alone with each other. Miguel will walk over to you quietly and just melt into your arms. He'll rest his head on yours if you're shorter than him or rest his head on your shoulder in the crook of your neck. Snuggles? Yeah, he is more than happy to be the little spoon. His favorite way to hold you and spend time with you is when you're under his arm. Expect a bunch of kisses - forehead, cheeks, lips, and hair. The man has unlimited kisses.

Translations:

Cito/Cita = something cute to add to a name. My moms cats name is pijo (flea in spanish) but we call him pijito

Amor = my love

Mi vida = my life

John Price

A man who takes pride in his vehicles. He has two Chevy trucks. A nice truck for everyday use and a project truck. The perfect person to talk to if you are thinking of purchasing a car or truck. Price has got the “dealership scam” game down. You'll be leaving the lot with a good deal.

The project car being a 1985 Chevy C10. Price is always going on about how “this is every man's dream car to work on”. He says it everytime he opens the garage. Without fail! It's got a classic blue color with a few rust spots but, nothing a good layer of paint can't fix. Its the 90s car from the movies. Nothing else to say about it!

Ahh the project car. Price works on it when he can. Set up a lawn chair, get a glass of lemonade, and just watch that man work. Sometimes hell even explain to you what he’s doing. That is if you can even pay attention. There’s something so attractive about a man talking about what he’s passionate about all sweaty with a nice pump. HEY, wipe that drool off your face.

Price’s personal truck is nice. It gets him from point A to B. Everything on it is stock. He’ll always tell you hes gonna sell it once his project car has been fixed. But there’s still quite a lot to do on the project car. Its a 2012 Chevy Silverado in cherry black with a covered bed. Good on gas and can pull a trailer or boat! He doesn’t invest money in it for other than maintenance costs.

It smells specifically like “Lakeside Morning” from Bath and Body works car scents. The packaging is what got him. It was honestly super cute when he read the package out loud. “Smells like: Cool, Sweet, Fresh, and alone time on the dock” followed by a shrug and him throwing it into his cart. Does he even fish?

Oh, whenever he turns a corner in the Silverado theres a thud coming from the bed. Its a cooler that has been there FOREVER. He swears he’s going to take it out. Price brought it when 141 met for a cook out and some beers a few months ago.

-

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Don’t ask about the APR please. Kyle is going to use this bad girl till it breaks. Its his dream car. Price took him away from base to get a better rate for it! Its fast its speedy its a 2015 Ford Shelby GT350. Oh yeah racing stripes and all. He got it wrapped in a matte ocean blue. Im talking leather seats, tinted windows, and custom wheel.

Kyle loves this car and will always offer to pick you up. Ur always going to be passenger princess. Kyle always drives up reallll slow, rev the engine a little, and rolls down the window to smile big at you. He gets the door for you when you are both approaching the car. Don’t test him. He will literally sprint to get the door for you. An actual cutiepie

Hes so damn cute when it comes to long drives. Hand on your thigh and singing to the music together. Expect spontaneous trips!! He doesn’t even know where you guys are headed today.

Loves to speed up when there no cars in front of him. That feeling of the car pushing into you the sear is his favorite. Kyle is definitely the type to lightly bang on the steering wheel and go “Wooooooo” when returning to the normal speed limit. Hehe. Hope it didn’t freak you out too much. You will without a doubt get a few reassuring thigh squeezes.

Classic Black Ice scent. Cant go wrong with it! Its his car’s signature sent if you ask him. Kyle keeps his car clean. Theres a few half empty water bottles in the back but never straight up trash. He makes sure to buy the premium wipes for the interior. Like I said that car is his baby. Ugh did i mention the sound system?! Its absolutely amazing. You can feel the bass in your bones. Literally sounds like you’re in an air pod pro.

-

John “Soap” Mactavish

His car is the hangout car. Like if were going out with boys were taking Soaps car. He drives a pearl colored 2020 Honda Accord. He ordered the under the seat lights and everything. Its actually a vibe in there. The music changes the lights or he has an app on his phone to change the color. Another amazing sound system tbh.

Similar to Gaz the glovebox in the car is yours. He even puts stuff in there for you as a surprise :,). Sweet baby Johnny. Like one time you got in the car like usual and opened the glovebox to grab chapstick or some perfume/cologne and sitting on the car instruction manual was a bag/box of ur favorite snack. When you looked back over, Johnny was looking back at you with a big derpy smile.

Since his car is the hangout car it can get messy pretty easily. He has to do “trash runs” to empty the random things people leave in his car. Dont get it wrong, It isnt nasty with random food left behind!! Soap has tried those like little trash cans on Amazon but they always end up lost under the back seats.

Johnny always goes with New Car Smell. He doesn’t have a specific brand he likes he just gets whatever’s at the gas station at the time. He also has the bad habit of never locking his car. Soap swears he always forgets to but you think its just a habit at this point.

CEO of spontaneous trips. You would never believe how much camping stuff his car can hold. Soap will give him car encouraging words as it struggles to go up the hills to the hike or camping site. He always keeps an emergency box under the passenger seat. Its shaped like tackle box. It has a first aid kit, some portable batteries with chargers, flares, and an emergency flash light. Last time you both went camping he was so excited to show you the random hatchet he bought. He keeps it in the trunk for no reason. I mean, he cant have it in the barracks so you suppose it makes sense.

-

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon currently owns two bikes. Hes in the process of selling his old one. Which is a chameleon purple painted 2006 Suzuki GSXR600 with 750 cc. It gave him a good year and half off rides. He took care of it and rode it to its top speeds. It has a scuff on the side from when he tried to do a wheelie but, he was going to slow and had to jump off before it fell to its side. Your heart sunk when it happened. Ghost was super embarrassed because he thought he had it down. He’ll never tell you though.

After a long deployment where he was getting quite a big of hazard pay (extra pay when you’re in a dangerous location) he saved it all up. As soon as he got back he bought a black 2021 Honda Rebel 1100 DCT. This bike is fast but it’s more for cursing. Trust that he’ll ride it to its max speed at least once for the adrenaline rush.

Bought you a matching jacket. He wont say anything about it being matching but you noticed almost after putting it on. Best part about riding is when you get to wrap your arms around his waist. Simon always makes sure to take it slow especially if you get nervous on bikes. Don’t even try to do your hair. He wont move the bike unless you have the right gear on. Ghost doesn’t wanna lose you from an accident.

The barracks were hot tonight. The small fan at your feet was doing its best to cool everything within its reach, filling the room with comforting white noise. All that could be seen was darkness, except for the light creeping in from the hallway under the door. Since you were not married to each other, you were still sharing a barracks room. The minutes seemed to drag on slowly. Every now and then, you checked your phone for any new notifications. The bright screen contrasted sharply with the darkness, making you squint a little. The screen was blank, and a picture of happier times stared back at you. The time displayed was...

1:22 AM

Letting out a deep breath that you had been holding, you clicked off the phone screen. The room was dark once again. You lay back down and stared at nothing, waiting for your eyes to readjust. Your mind started to wander what he could be doing, if he was okay, and if he had eaten. You missed him so much. Having no form of communication was hard during these missions, leaving too much to the imagination. The questions and scenarios in your head seemed endless, spiraling one after another, suffocating you. "What time is it?" you thought to yourself, talking over the endless questions. The time read

2:06 AM

Sliding your phone under your pillow, you readjust to sleep. You imagine how it would be if he were here with you now, how you would both manage to fit in the tiny barracks bed, and how you would position yourselves to sleep comfortably. You imagine the feeling of his chest rising and sinking against you, the faint sound of his heart beating along with yours, and how one of you would become a furnace and make the blanket too hot to sleep with. You smile, but the reality of no one being there sets in.

2:33 AM

You won’t cry. This is nothing new. If you were being honest with yourself, if you knew you were going to miss him this much you would have given him just one more kiss. Made that “see you later” hug a bit tighter or longer. You wondered if he felt the same when you would leave. If some of his days would be long with restless nights.

You rolled over once more. If you were guessing correctly, you only had about four hours left to sleep. You wished you could switch off your brain, just have a moment of silence, or that he would text you to let you know he's okay...

Only 12 more days of this and he’d be home.

-

Hooch = really long tent. Its hot in there. Usually stinky.