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gatorbites-imagines · 6 months

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Kinktober day 29

John “Soap” MacTavish + Muscle/Body Worship

I’m still exhausted from all my homework and exam prep, but the I’m not gonna let that stop me. Readers older than Soap and is retired from the military.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Retirement was strange for you, especially after having been active in the military for most of your life. Now that you had retired, there was very little to do to fill your day, Especially with Soap away still on active duty. Your relationship was a little strange in the eyes of others, mainly because of your age gap, but you were both adult men with careers when you first met and knew what you wanted.

You spent most of your days doing hobbies, like woodwork or messing with junker cars. The people of the town you and Soap lived in knew you as the older ex-military man who took no shit, but knew how to get even the oldest car running, or creating the wildest things outta wood.

The life outside of the military had taken much stress of your shoulders, but the access to any treat you could want and not being on the move at all times was starting to show. You were still strong as an ox and big in width and height, but as time went on a layer of fat gathered over your muscles. You still looked like you could take down a bear singlehandedly, but insecurity was starting to gather in your chest.

Combine your sudden plush and the grey starting to gather in your hair and beard, the ugly voices in your head started to whisper and murmur. A part of your mind was sure that the moment Soap saw you when he came back from duty, hed turn the other way and run for the hills, as you weren’t the man he had left those months ago.

It was that insecurity that had you pulling on an army fleece jacket, one that still fit and served to hide some of your newer bulk, the day you had to go pick him up from the airport. You were chewing your lip as you leaned against a wall near the back, surrounded by other people greeting their loved ones coming home. When you saw Soap, you almost talked yourself out of calling out for him, but before you could make any decision, he spotted you.

The Scot rushed through the crowd with his army bags, his eyes running up and down your body in a way that had your skin crawling enough that you didn’t notice the hunger that grew in them. He groaned as he hugged you, his bags forgotten on the floor as he kissed you, his arms squeezing around your middle as he couldn’t seem to stop himself from grabbing onto your ass or thighs, squeezing the thicker material of your thighs with an appreciative hum.

Insecurity gnawed in your stomach as you pulled back from Soaps hungry lips, clearing your throat as you reached them to scoop up his bags and lug them over his shoulder. You lover huffed about it for a bit, but you just grinned and made your way towards the car, unaware of the holes Soap was burning in your body as he seemed to take in every change he had missed.

The drive back to your home was spent sharing what you’d both missed, you sharing town gossip, and Soap telling you about 141. As you drove, you almost pulled away as Soap grabbed onto your thigh, his strong hand almost kneading the softer muscle under his palm. But seeing as you were driving, you couldn’t pull away like you wanted too, but Soap seemed to notice your discomfort and pulled his hand to himself with a worried furrow to his brow.

When you got home, you could tell Soap wanted to jump you immediately. It was tradition at this point, after being apart for a while, you two would spend hours expressing the feelings you hadn’t been able too all that time. But the insecurity in your body had you avoiding his advances, even though you had missed him just as much as he had missed you.

His pouting and puppy eyes almost had you throwing your insecurities about your body out the window, but then you would pass by a reflective surface, and you would see your thicker body, your rounder stomach or the extra roundness in your cheeks, and your fears would return tenfold.

This continued for a few days, until Soap finally seemed to have enough as you guys were typically better at talking about anything wrong. You had taken to sleep fully clothed, when in the past all you had slept in were a pair of boxers. That night you two were laying in bed, Soap acting as the big spoon as you liked to switch, his face burrowed in your shoulders as he squeezed your middle.

“God, you’re so fucking hot” he groaned, his hips rolling into your back as he exhaled shakily, his lips pressing against the exposed skin of your neck. You found your face growing hot, along with heat pooling in your gut as he murmured out all the things he thought, a shaky exhale leaving you as he ran his hands up under your shirt.

“The moment I saw you, I almost jumped you then and there, right in the airport” he purred, switching from kisses to bites and sucks. You wanted to retort, to claim he was lying, but the way he panted and ground against your back, his hard cock rutting against you made his point clear. He truly didn’t seem to mind your bodies changes, quite the opposite, he seemed almost rabid with how much he loved it.

“Come on love, roll over” he groaned, withdrawing from your back to grab at your shoulders, rolling you onto your back, but not before wrestling the shirt off your torso. You didn’t even have time to gasp out his name before he descended upon you, grabbing, licking, and sucking hickeys all over your torso, moaning against the fat and muscle of your strong torso.

You gripped onto his mohawk, a shuddery gasp leaving you as he licked and sucked between your thick pecs, his eyes locked on your own, looking half mad and starved as Soap worked his way down your body. “This stomach” he growled, gripping onto your stomach and licking over it, his voice rough and almost worshipping in tone.

“These fuckin thighs” Soap groaned out, pulling your sleep pants down your hips to bury his face between them, gripping them to squeeze them around his head. He looked like a man in heaven as you flexed your thighs carefully, squeezing his head softly between them as he so badly seemed to want.

A curse left you as Soap dug his teeth into the meat of your thigh, working like a man possessed to mark them all over as if to make up for lost time. When he finally seemed to have worked his way all over your body, you found yourself aching hard, a wet spot gathering in your boxers.

Soap almost purred as he ran the flat side of his tongue over your shaft through your boxers, his pupils blown and hair a mess. Wrenching down your boxers, he was upon you like a starved animal, sucking you all the way down his throat even as he gagged and coughed, like all Soap wanted was you to fill his mouth.

The noises were slick and wet as he worked his lips up and down you, one of his hands gripping your thick thigh as the other rolled your balls, his acts akin to worship as Soap moaned and groaned like the act brought him just as much pleasure as it brought you.

It had been a while since you had gotten yourself off, you age playing a factor, as your libido wasn’t as high as it had once been without Soap there, so the end quickly hurdled close. “F-fuck, John” you grunted, voice raspy as he looked down at him, his blue eyes staring up at you with such a deep hunger, his movements growing more desperate and his noises needier.

The grip on his mohawk tightened as you clenched your eyes shut, a deep guttural noise leaving you as you spilled into his mouth, thick spurts of white striking the back of his throat and tongue, Soap moaning louder than you as he gulped it all down like it was a delicacy.

Soap gave a few extra sucks and slurps, just to make sure it was all drawn out of you before withdrawing with a lewd pop, his lips red and wet as he grinned wolfishly. A soft chuckle left you as you fell back onto the pillows, grabbing onto his hips as he clambered on top of you. You both knew it would take a while before you could get hard again, but Soap seemed just as happy to start rutting against your stomach, needy noises leaving him as you moved his hips for him in a tight grip.

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witchthewriter · 6 months

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𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: not a poly relationship - I just decided to have them both in one post. Let me know if you want more xx Also I went through the tags for these guys and there is nothing but SMUT. So I wanted some sweet sfw headcanons for the boys

Warnings: swearing, nsfw included (no one under 18 please).

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

INTJ

Ravenclaw

Neutral Good

Scorpio Sun, Capricorn Moon, Virgo Rising

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲/𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

・This man is fucking dangerous behind the wheel. And although he is a hot-head occasionally, it isn't when he's driving.

・Simon knows he's shit, so when people honk at him, give him the finger - he just stone-faces it. Let's them berate him because really, he doesn't fucking care.

・However he has lost his licence a few times ... and so you told him he could be your <3 passenger princess <3

・Simon wasn't amused ...

・Very much the protective type, verging on possessive. Not in an abusive way, but he wants everyone to know that you're his. So when anyone flirts with you - or even when they're a little too nice, his jealousy consumes him.

・Scary dog privledges, with and without the mask. This man is intimidating as fuck.

・6'4, wide shoulders and big hands, so it doesn't matter how you look, how tall you are etc - Simon is bigger, taller and stronger.

・Yes he can be a hardass, but when he loves someone, that roughness is somewhat smoothened out. He'd hate to hurt your feelings.

・He only wears his mask to hide his identity; he takes it off when missions are done.

・And when he's home, he rarely wears it.

・Absolutely HATES being jump-scared. And his reflexes take over (you've learnt from the first and last time)

・This goes with random kisses as well, sometimes you just have to make yourself known before touching Simon

・He isn't huge into PDA, but when outside he will gladly hold your hand, bump his shoulder into yours when you make a crappy dad joke.

・The biggest misconception is that he's cold. Well, at work - obviously he is. But at home, with you, he has so much warmth. A lot of life.

・He has great banter. Absolutely has both of you laughing your asses off.

・Calls you "love," "sweetheart," (all in his gruff, chiselled brit accent). And when you're alone, he calls you names like "my love," "hun," "sweet cheeks."

・You're slowly learning about Simon's past, which he shares little by little.

・Too much information and he's scared you might feel overwhelmed and leave him

・There's some deep trauma there, but the army has therapists and everyone gets checked out before they're deemed mentally healthy enough.

・He does want kids, but only after he's done with the military. He would hate to be an absent father in any way. And he wouldn't want you to have that full responsibility.

・A lot of people characterise him as this traumatised man who can barely look after himself. But that is far, faaaaar from the truth. He's very competent. And he eats a LOT. But he also works out (to keep in shape, he actually hates the gym) (also he doesn't expect you to do anything of that stuff. He loves you for you.)

・I also have this headcanon that Ghost/Riley would love Metallica, Slipknot, Black Sabbath etc. It's one of the things that calm him down. However, if he's had an overwhelming day, he needs no noise whatsoever.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Teases Them (You) x About To End Them (Ghost)

The Moon and His Star

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Opposites Attract

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Say Yes To Heaven by Lana Del Rey

Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier

Enter Sandman by Metallica

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, I bloody mean it.

・There's almost like two sides of your s/o. The Ghost side, where the mask stays on, and he's rough, possessive, dominant. And then the Simon side, where he likes soft touches and when you gently stroke his face

・You've both discovered that Simon likes it when you wear his mask, gloves - nothing else - and touch yourself.

・Even with your cum juices on the mask, and gloves, he'll still wear them to work.

・It's the only kinky thing he brings with him while on deployment. You did want to take a naked polaroid for him but he didn't trust the other guys not to somehow see it.

・He likes keeping you as separate from army life as much as possible. Because you feel like home, and it gives him hope.

・Ghost loves taming your bratty side. He's short, demanding and can shut you up with one look.

"Keep on actin' like that, and see what happens."

・Of course you keep acting up, and when you get home, you pay for it tenfold.

・Ghost's hands are as big as a paddle, and when he has you over his knee, ass up in the air. He doesn't hesitate in leaving red marks (all consensual. He wouldn't do anything without having a conversation before hand).

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

ISTP

Hufflepuff

Chaotic Good

Aries Sun, Aquarius Moon, Leo Rising

𝐊𝐨̈𝐧𝐢𝐠

・A 6'10 king, who suffers from social anxiety but has this soft, silly side that he loves showing you and only you (I will take no criticisms on his height. It is LAW. My law.)

・Because of his anxiety, social aspects of life are much harder than work. He's highly skilled in combat, and has a lot of confidence in his abilities to accomplish missions.

・However, when you tried to speak to him, all he could do was stutter.

・You allowed him to get the words out, but he was an absolute mess afterwards and went to go train.

・But this didn't deter you in the slightest. Hell, you had been trying to muster the courage to speak to him for weeks...

・It took a while for Konig to open up about his past, especially his adolescence.

・He's told you the jist of it, but there's details that you don't push him on.

・One of your favourite pastimes together is going to bakeries and eating the most delicious pastries.

・When you're feeling down, or there's something to celebrate, there's no cake but pastries instead

・Doesn't mind animals, but understands that when he's away you will get a bit lonely. So you surprised him by getting a pair of kittens!

・You showed him over video chat, one white kitten and one black.

"I haven't chosen names for them yet, but I thought maybe you could have some input?"

"Schatz! The kittens are cute but you have scratch marks all over your arms!"

"They're very playful!" And then you leant closer to the camera and whispered, "I leave scratches on your back ..." And with an innocent look on your face, you watched as Konig shivered.

・Likes to put you on his lap when he's cleaning weapons, or getting the marks out of his mask or shoes. Okay honestly, he just wants you on his lap all the time. Whatever excuse he can come up with - he'll goddamn use it

・Absolutely loves Kate Bush and Stevie Nicks. He thinks they have such a beautiful sound that you can find him with headphones on, swaying in the bedroom, silently in his feels

・All your pet names are in Austrian/German:

"Schatz", meaning 'treasure'.

"Maus," meaning 'mouse.'

"Liebling" meaning 'darling.'

"Hase" meaning 'bunny'.

"Liebe" meaning 'love.'

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Always Bringing Them Rocks They Think They Would Like (You) x Keeps The Rocks (Konig)

The Gomez & Morticia Adams

I Don’t Know What I’m Doing But At Least I’m Alive, Right? (You) x You’re Doing Great, Sweetie (Konig)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Hidden Identity & Forced Proximity

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush

The Chain by Stevie Nicks

Dance of the Druids by Bear McCreary (he loves movie scores as well. It's one of his fascinations).

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Konig is a bit awkward at first with the sexual interactions you guys have. He does have anxiety, but also, the build up of sexual tension had been going on for months.

・All he had during that time was his hands and the memories of how you looked, the way your eyes met his then flicked downward - almost like you had x-ray vision.

・There was no denying the heat.

・So when you first hooked up it was a fumbling mess of grunting, clothes ripping and fast hands trying to touch and grab at any bare piece of flesh.

・You did have a shocking revelation that first time however. Because this man's cock is not only thick, veiny but nearly 9 inches when he's hard.

・That first time wasn't a true first time as the look on your face told Konig everything - you weren't ready for that part of him ... just yet.

・Loves when you ride his thigh; they're absolutely huge. Just muscled and bulky and the first time you saw them (without the uniform) you audibly gasped.

・His body is absolutely divine

・Like it had been sculpted by the gods. Large biceps, long legs, small waist, large shoulders. His hands wrap your neck perfectly.

・You feel so safe with him.

・And you have to remind him that, because sometimes he worries he could hurt you without meaning to.

"I'm a grown up, Konig. I can handle myself."

"So when are you going to let me fuck you?"

"mmm... I think I still have to get used to that. Maybe we can do fingers first..." (his fingers are ... fucking huge).

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kanmom51 · 4 months

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It's been over a week

And I'm still trying to digest and come to terms with it.

I know I said that I take comfort in them being together, and I got to say, that is a big big help in dealing with their departure, and yet, can't help but be sad and worry like a mom that just sent her kids off to the army.

Watching JM's live with JK's that followed (a few hours later and after their family dinner) was heart wrenching. JM struggling with his shaved hair was heartbreaking.

This clearly was not easy for them.

JM the next day (in the BTB).

I can't help but wonder, after the initial annoyance of getting a minute or a little more from the two's enlistment day, if the whole thing was just too emotional and more than what they themselves wanted to share publicly.

Again, seeing how JM is struggling, and JK knowing and comforting him. That look on JM's face when JK does that. Ugh, how I wish they didn't have to go through this. But they did. They are. And now it's time to come to terms with it.

I guess having lived it, done the army thing, gone through basic training and military service I have a little more insight as to what they will be going through, and that also gives me some comfort, because yes, it's going to be hard, both the physical and mental aspects of it. The structure, the loss of individuality, the harsh physical and mental training. But, a. they are 2 of the most driven people I have seen, a work ethic and a need to excel, and they will attack this (so to speak) no differently; b. they have been through so much getting to where they have gotten. Yes, the structure is a little different, but they are no strangers to being in a structured environment, told what to do, when to do it, how to do it. Basically, they are used to doing what they are told. Strenuous physical activity is no stranger to them as well. Experiencing struggles teaches you that you can prevail. Teaches you that you are strong enough to get through it. Teaches you that there is a light at the end of that tunnel. And knowing that, at times of hardship, can mean everything to the person going through that.

Their age, being mostly older than others enlisting (most do so at 18-21) has it's advantages and disadvantages. Advantages being having that insight and life experience that they have, especially starting their careers at such a young age. Disadvantage being that at this age they are all grown up, as in mostly know who they are, what they want to do with their life. Having to leave all of that at the door is not easy and takes adjusting to. But they are resilient. And their life experience and struggles they went through over the years will, as mentioned, definitley help them get through this as well.

For my sanity and mental well being I'm going to ignore the geo-political fuckery going on right now. Does willing things not to happen make them not happen? I'm going to go with yes on this. Don't you dare contradict me here. Let me live in my fantasy world at least on this one.

So yeah, it definitely won't be easy. Having each other's back there will definitley help, although having to keep their hands off each other in public will definitley be a challenge they will have to deal with. I digress. They will be ok. They have each other. They will get through this, and who knows, perhaps at some point (probably not basic training, cause that sucks) they might even enjoy their service (enjoy what they will be doing, feel satisfaction in their contribution to their country, who knows...).

And yet, knowing all of this, I'm still sad.

Because I already miss the shit out of them.

And it's kind of funny, because I know there is plenty of content coming up, including actual Jikook content, like just the two of them without the group as a buffer content, and that is definitely something to look forward to. And it's not like we were seeing them on a daily or even weekly basis before they enlisted (there were periods of time we were parched with them not to be seen or heard from for ages).

But this feels different. I guess knowing that even if they wanted to reach out, at the moment, they can't. Knowing that there isn't a chance of a JK restaurant visit popping up, or a surprise live makes it all so very real.

I'm not going to do the day counting. For me, that makes dealing with it harder. Maybe when we are down to two digits, definitely not before. I think I will just sit back, enjoy the new content they share with us, go through old content (there is so much out there, enough to definitely get me through the next 18 months, sob sob).

As for myself, well I'm not going anywhere.

Yes, I have something going on right now and am posting less often, but I'm still here, still around and will be posting and answering your messages.

We will all get through this together.

#Jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin #jm #jungkook #jk #jikook military #jikook the inseparable

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ellaa-writes · 4 months

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Do you mind making a fanfic where König slowly falls in love with the reader that's the team medic. And can it be smut towards the end that's more vanilla than rough?

Hiii! Thank you for the request. Also sent back in November. I always get carried away with these. CW; alcohol consumption but over all its very tame and a little fluffy :)

Working for Kortac wasn't always easy but it sure was awarding. Being the team medic/doctor had its perks. You mostly worked on base, or different outposts. You rarely experienced field work, but you weren't completely useless. The rest of the team wouldn't allow it, specially the Colonel.

You train with them, eat with them, shower with them, cause you are one of them.

As well as going out after a successful mission, when everyone is preparing for there leave. A nice hooray before a break.

You've been with Kortac for little over a year now, you made friendships with almost everyone. The Lifesaver they call you, out of respect and also taking the piss. Getting a nickname meant you were really family.

You don't talk about your personal life, no one does and no one asks questions. But it's not like you want to talk about your failures and joining the military was you lose ditch effort to pursue your dreams. Working in the hospital wasn't ideal anymore, the mundane day after day was draining you. And your tremors destroyed your opportunity to your goal as a board certified surgeon.

Wearing your civvy clothes, nothing special. Your favorite pair of jeans, a simple top and chunky boots. It's a tad chilly so you threw a warm leather jacket over it to tie it all in. Taking a cab with Roze to the local bar. Chatting about plans and wants. Roze using her leave to go climb a mountain. Telling her you wish you had her ambition and discipline. And her telling you that she could teach you some time.

The cab stopped in front of the bar, a fairly busy night. A small group of people were gathered around chatting and smoking cigarettes. Some of them you recognize as your teammates, and the Colonel. He made you dizzy, every time your eyes find him every cell in your body buzzes. Like flies to a street lamp.

Like a million butterflies in your tummy, beating against the inside tying to break out. You waving back to the ones that waved to you, making your way into the bustling bar. Leading the way to the bar, Roze close behind.

"We should find a both, I'm not being stuck at a fucking table." Roze gritted into your ear, remembering the last time you two went out with the boys. "Go find one I'll order our drinks. The usual?" you offered. She gave you a big smile and squeeze to your upper arm. "You are a doll, do you know that?" she yelled as she made her way through the crowd.

You finally flagged down the busy bartender, ordering Roze her vodka soda and your old fashion. Looking out into the crowd trying to find the others. Spotting them at a big booth in the back, a big screen rght above playing some sort of football game.

With a loud clink the bartender dropped the drinks in front, snatching the change out of your hand before turning away to help another. Carefully making your way through the crowd to the others, watching has Roze and Hutch lively convo. Setting the drink down before sliding it over to Roze who mouthed a silent thank you to you.

You slid into the other end of the both the faced out towards the bar, right up to a very tired looking Oni who looked unintereseted in whatever Horangi was saying. "What's up cool cat." he cooed to you, his big arm snaking around to give you a tight hug. "Getting drunk." you cheered raising your drink, the two cheering in agreement as they clinked their glass against eachother.

"Room for one more?" his thick deep accent purred for behind you. Colonel König sliding in beside you, taking up the rest of the both. Causing you to shift over to Oni to your right. "You smell like shit." Horangi exclaimed, raising his glass towards König. Causing the giant to bark with laughter, raising his pint towards the Korean. Causing some to slosh to the side and drip in front of you.

Indistinctively making you jump back to not get any of the stinky lager to get on you. "Sorry about the doll." his rumbling voice reached your ears. Making you blush and say "It's all good sir." taking a big gulp of your drink. Shrinking back as the others talked, stopping once in a while to include you.

König's leg brushing up against yours every now and than. If you were any the wiser you'd think he was doing it on purpose. Downing the last of your drink you plopped it on the solid table with a clank. König eyeing the empty glass while he finished his own. Kindly taking it with him as he went to get another fill.

Roze gave you an odd look from across the table, you just shrugged it off. She's been trying to convince you that the Austrian has been pinning for you. You brush it off as him being kind, but he's never that kind. Small things like bringing you things he found that reminded you of him. Small like trinkets and tchotchkes, either hand delivering them himself or leaving at your door.

Always being the first on the team, even before the muscle. Having first pick over any new recruits, a small luxury. Like you said, he's just kind. And very straight forward and to the point. A confident and cocky man, that knows what he wants and always gets it. And it's definitely not you.

It wasn't long until the Colonel returned with his drink and yours, setting down a colorful fruity drink in front of you. Causing a laugh from the others, but you just blinked at it. "I think this is yours." as you shifted it across the table to Hutch. Who gladly took the free drink cause booze is booze baby. "Aw Koni pal, you shouldn't have." he nearly had it to his lips before König thick hand grabbing Hutch's wrist, giving it a light squeeze before saying "It's not yours." in his husky accent. Bringing it back to you, holding it out. "Do you not like?" he asked curiously.

You weren't sure what was happening, was this some joke that you just didn't understand. "No." you said flatly, eyeing Roze for some help but she just eagerly gulped down her own ignoring you. "Can you excuse me." as you brushed passed the giant now looking at the drink in confusion.

Going to the bar you ordered two shots of the strongest liquor they had. Taking them down like a champ you asked for another old fashion. Feeling a warm hard body brush up next to you, seeing the Colonel standing beside you with that stupid drink still in his hand.

"I'm sorry Katze, I thought you would like." he started to explain. The bartender interrupting to give you your whiskey, taking a quick sip before König moved the drink so it was next to you. "It reminds me of you, that's all." he finished. You snorted into your glass and nearly choked on the smooth amber. Huffing out a coughing laugh.

"I'm sorry sir, but how does that remind you of me?" you giggled, finally feeling the alcohol settle into your worn bones.

"It's colorful like you." he said confidently and also confused at how you dont see it. "I'm colorful?" you asked, taking the drink from his hand. Your fingers lightly brushing against his, bringing the liquid to your nose before downing the whole thing in one try. And setting it back into his hand that remained in place.

König eyes widened at your bold display, a fire burning into them as he watched you lips grip the rim of the curved glass. The way your necked bobbed as you swallowed the sweet liquid. The fire burning a path straight to his pants. Feeling himself grow to life and strain against the front zipper.

"It's nice to see you like this sir." you blurted out and immediately regretting it. Ok, last drink and your leaving, you scolded yourself. "What do you mean?" his curosity peeked. You waved his answer away, getting embarssed by your loose lips. "Dont get shy on me now." he pushed. Moving hs big body into yours more, pining you to the bar stool.

"It's just, your so human." you whispered. A little nervous to his reacton, but instead he leaned his head back and barked out a laugh. Causing people around to jump at the sudden loud sound. A few moving away from the big man.

"That was a good one Katze." he leaned further down to your face. "I like seeing you like this." his hand slowly running from your wrist to your neck, holding it in place. "Like what sir?" you mummured, eyeing his lips as they moved closer to your own. "Flustered." he breathed into your mouth, closing the gap and kissing you deeply. His hand moving to the back of your head to keep you in place. Your lungs seizing to produce air as you felt his soft lips move against yours.

He pulled away slowly, moving his hand to your face, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Your lungs screamed, finally sucking in a deep breath. You could feel the heat rise to your face, you must look like a tomato right now.

"So damn cute." he continued, looking away from you to your abandoned drink at the bar. "Are you done?" he questioned. You were buzzing, almost right out of your skin. So light headed all you could do his shake your head yes. König took that as his sign to make a move, so he lead you out of the bar into the cold night.

"This way doll." as he pulled you to the direction of the quiet street, you could spot the bmw shining under the moon light. "I'll drive us back." he reached the passenger door, holding it open for you as you climbed in. Closing it softly as he jogged to the drivers side, climbing in and the car roared to life.

The drive back to the base passed in a flash, König nearly dragging you through the building towards his own room. His high status warrants his own private quarters. A small living and dining area, followed by his bedroom and attached bathroom. He unlocked the door with haste and pulled you in. Spinning you around so you were pushed against the back of the door.

His strong body on yours, you heard the click of the lock slide into place. König lips once again on yours, nipping and sucking. Making a trail down your neck, pulling the zipper of your jacket down and off your arms. Tossing it towards his table, his hands finding your ass and hauling you up. You legs mindlessly wrapping around his waist, tugging him into your core more. Earning a low moan, vibrating from his chest.

He yanked at the collar of your shirt, a clean tear running down the front exposing your breast to his mouth. Pulling a yelp from you as he nipped at the sensitive skin. He turned you both around and towards his room, kicking the door open and dropping you on the bed.

"Sir-" you tried to let out but König's lips swallowed your words. "Shhh, baby. Let me make you feel good. Ja." he whispered into your mouth, making you melt into the bed. All you could do was shake your head has you fully leaned back, closing your eyes.

König made good with your clothes, leaving you only in your panties. You watched has he removed his shirt and shoved his jean and brief's to the floor, kicking them away as he climbed back on and slotted himself between your thighs.

Pining your spread knees to your stomach, rubbing his face against your clothed core. His big nose carding its self along your slit, building pressure against your clit. Pulling moans from you, throwing your head back.

König took his time, running his face up and down your thighs. Kissing from your ankle to your inner thigh, over your soaking core, and down the other leg. Licking path across your skin and blowing on the wetness, goosebumps spreading across your body.

Pulling your hard buds into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and sucking. His teeth grazing on the sensitive nipple and lightly nipping. Relishing in the noises hes drawing from you. Humming in approval, slowly pulling down your panties and letting them get lost on the bed.

His fingers find your center, the thick heavy digits ghosting up and down. Gathering the wetness that pushed through, pressing his wide thumb right against your clit. Making you buck into his hand more, König's mouth still on your tits.

He worked his thick middle finger into you, slowly opening you for him. Working knuckle by knuckle, whispering praises into your ear. Pushing another finger into you, making you whimper at the stretch.

"Ko, please." you pleaded with him, feeling his low chuckle. His hot mouth against your ear, cooing "Patience love." as his fingers pump in and out of you. Feeling your slick slide down your ass and onto the sheets.

Whining at the loss of his fingers, but feeling the head of his dick running up and down. Collecting your wetness and spreading it over him before the tip catches you needy hole. Snapping his hips fowards ripped a cry from your throat. Your legs clamping around him and tightening.

"Shh, shhh. Quiet now pretty girl. I'm sorry, I'll be more carefully." and he kept true to his word. His cock slowly stretching you open, your warm folds inviting him in. Squeezing and pulsing around him, König cherished every moment.

Sensually thrusting in and out, lazily rolling his hips. Making sure he pulls orgasm after orgasm from your body.

Not stopping until your begging and pleading with him. Incoherently going on about it being too much, too sensitive.

König could lose himself in you, deeper and deeper. Holding back to not scare you. Wanting to make it all about his sweet little medic. The moment he laid eyes on you he was hooked. Those sweet eyes and kind smile, how quick and smart you were. Such a soft thing, you shouldn't be in this line of field.

Finally letting himself go, he buried himself deeper. Releasing pressed right up against your cervix, shoveling as much as he could to your core. Letting out one last guttural moan as he collapsed onto you, only rolling over when you started banging against his back. Taking you with you, you settled on his chest.

König laid out completely satisfied, head back and eyes closed. He could feel you staring at him.

"Sleep" he commanded. Hearing your giggle as you continued to stare.

#cod mw2 #könig #konig #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig call of duty #cod könig #cod konig #könig x fem reader

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elliespeach · 1 year

Text

basic training | ellie williams

au where ellie stayed in boston and became an officer

synopsis: ellie, a respected officer in fedra, is having trouble with a disrespectful subordinate. after several failed attempts to make this cadet behave properly, she resorts to an unethical way to whip them in shape.

warnings: 18+ swearing, this shit is kinky and smutty as fuck, spit kink, r! receiving fingering, oral, heavy dom!ellie, praise, punishment, (pussy) slapping, wanna say mean!ellie but very minimal imo, if i missed anything lmk pls

an: i don't usually write smut so pls tell me if this is cringy, not proofread sorry lowkey rushed ending also!! reader is a cadet, ellie is an officer. the only reason being reader didn’t show up to boston until later, they are both adults!!!

“this just came in for you, officer williams,” the trainee handed her a concealed envelope. she sighed, seeing it was from her superior and knew it was going to be about you. “permission to return to my duties?”

ellie nodded a response, not caring for the formalities. ripping open the small letter, it told her what she had already assumed. no matter what ellie threw at you to whip you into shape, you defied her at every turn and it drove her mad. she didn’t even want to be an officer, she would’ve been content with living in the qz as a citizen, but that wasn’t for her to decide. and you didn’t get to decide either.

unlike ellie, who grew up in the boston qz, you were an outsider. someone who was looking for shelter and a place to call home not even two years ago, the higher ranking officers took notice of you as a citizen and they deemed you fit to be a soldier. fedra needed all the people they could get and forcing their civilians to become fedra soldiers seemed necessary to them. you saw no other way out then being as bad as you possibly could be.

you were late to training almost everyday, you didn’t participate in classes and worst of all; you spoke back to officers of higher ranking. and that was something fedra didn’t take lightly. ellie has made you run more laps than even she could count, she’s put you in the hole, she even tried to just speak with you about it. trying to tell you it’s better to just comply, that way your life wouldn’t be so miserable. but despite her best efforts, you retaliated the best way you can.

ellie understood your destaine for fedra, she herself hated them probably more than you did but she didn’t have the luxury of choosing. so ellie threw the letter back onto her desk and stormed out of her office, determined to finally make you listen. she was tired of getting reprimanded herself because of you not complying and as she made her way to the trainee’s quarters she pounded on your door harshly.

“open up cadet!” she yelled through the metal door. you opened it, an uninterested expression displayed on your face and it only made ellie angrier. you were wearing an oversized t-shirt that went down to your thighs and ellie had to redirect her eyes to your face.

“do you realize that your actions affect more than just you?” ellie hissed and you barely flinched at her words.

“do they?” you asked, your eyebrows raising to look confused but you knew very well what you did.

“disrespecting a sergeant? you don’t think that has consequences?” ellie rebutted, tired of your constant attitude. it made her furious to see you disobey her this way, she never cared for the standard military etiquette and even had pulled some of the same stunts when she was a cadet but you were on a whole other level and it made ellie look bad. she feared the title of officer being taken from her, and she finally felt like she was getting somewhere. but you were ruining her plans. you and that fucking attitude.

you had crossed your arms, a devilish smirk appeared on your face and you responded. “and what exactly will my punishment be this time, officer williams?”

your tone was inviting and ellie saw right through you, “you don’t learn from punishments.” she lowered her voice to a growl.

“maybe i just need a good teacher,” you whispered, taking small steps backwards into your small room. ellie cocked her head to the side and followed you into the room, closing the door behind her. she was in her officer’s uniform, head to toe in black thick material. the cuffs of her shirt were rolled up, resting on her elbows showing off her only tattoo. “you know, to show me how to behave?”

she was intimidating, but you wouldn’t let it show. “ahh i see,” ellie hummed as she approached you. “you need someone to fuck that attitude right out of you.” she said teasingly in front of your face.

she reached up and grasped your neck tightly, and you stammered your words. “you’re gonna learn today. got it?” she harshly whispered in your ear and all you could do was nod, already succumbing to ellies dominance. you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t what you wanted all year.

using the grip on your neck, ellie pushed you down into your bed and she climbed on top of you. with her hand not leaving your throat she pressed her lips to yours, she kissed you roughly. her tongue forcing it’s way into your mouth and before pulling away from the intoxicating kiss she nibbled on your bottom lip, causing you to whine at her departure.

“open your mouth,” ellie demanded, her hand coming up from your throat to cup your chin roughly. you did as you were told and she spit directly into your mouth, before being told too, you swallow and she let go of your chin harshly sending your head back on the pillow. “good girl.”

she slid her hand down to your core, rubbing it on top of your panties and feeling the gooey warmth beneath them, “bet this is what you wanted all along, huh?” you clutched her arm in pleasure, arching your back wishing she would rip off the clothing that separated her hand and your aching pussy. without stopping, she shoved your arm behind your head, telling you with her eyes to keep it there. “i’ve barely touched you and you’re soaking,” her voice was filled with disbelief, “such a pathetic little slut.”

her words were like their own personal drug and you yearned for more. “ellie, please–”

her hand stopped and you whined beneath her. “thats not how you address your superiors.” she taunted in a low voice. you remained quiet, despite the small whimpers that leaked out, you tested ellie’s patience and it resulted in a hard slap across your burning cunt, you yelped and ellie repeated her question sternly.

“o-officer williams,” you said reluctantly and ellie’s hand started doing small circles. her other hand wandered up beneath your shirt, pinching your already sensitive nipple making your breathing hitch. “faster.” you begged her.

ellie chuckled watching you melt under her touch and how easy it was to get you this way. “you want faster?” she asked, a sinister tone in her voice. but you nodded, desperate for release. ellie obliged, which should have made you weary but you didn’t think twice. she moved her hands furiously against your throbbing cunt while sucking on your exposed neck. you were convulsing at her touch, your skin erupted in goosebumps and you felt your core tightening.

between moans you muttered, “i’m close–” ellie’s head removed itself from your neck and her fingers disappeared yet again, a satisfied look on her face. you whimpered, the warm feeling in your stomach dissipating with every second that she wasn’t touching you.

she looked down on you disappointed, “should’ve used your manners if you wanted to cum. take these off,” she ordered, pointing at your underwear. you obeyed, removing the soaking pieces of clothing. “and this.” she tugged on your shirt, again you did as you were told.

she traced her fingers along the curve of your body, taking you in. “if you could just be that obedient all the time, fuck.”

“i’ll be good,” you interjected, unsure if that’s what she wanted to hear. she cupped your face in her hand, this time more gentle.

“prove it then, c’mere–” she lifted herself off of you, leading you to the mirror on the back of your door. she ordered you to sit in front of it and you did, placing yourself only a few feet away. your legs were pressed together, suddenly shy at the sight of yourself and ellie stepped in between you and the mirror.

getting down to your level she shook her head, “like this.” she sighed, using her strong arms to rip your legs open, revealing yourself to her. she left you like that, returning behind you and knelt down to get a better view. “now touch yourself.”

you looked back at her with a face that read: are you serious? and ellie pointed your head back at the mirror with her hand and nodded. with her hands now tangled up in your hair, forcing you to remain facing forward you brought your hand down to your aching cunt. ellie watched diligently as you touched yourself at first, apprehensive but as it started to feel good you leaned your head back on ellie’s shoulder in pleasure. she bit down on her lip, her own core throbbing at the sight of you.

not being able to help herself, she brought her lips back to your neck leaving a trail of marks wherever she could. you shuddered as she bit down on your ear, and as your juices fell to the floor beneath you felt the familiar tightening in between your legs and knew you were close. instead of telling ellie, out of fear she would make you stop, you continued on. reaching your climax, ellie took notice of your quickening breaths and shaky legs. before she could tell you no, you were cumming on your own fingers moaning obscenities.

furious, ellie lifted you off the ground and spun you around to face her. her eyes were filled with rage and you were still coming down from the high of finishing, you barely noticed. she gripped your throat in anger, shaking you out of your own little trance. “you said you’d be good,” she snarled.

“ell– officer williams i’m sorry i–” she didn’t let you finish, she brought her hand across your face hard, leaving a red mark.

“think you can do whatever you want? let me show you how we treat sluts like you,” she turned you around and buried your face in the bed, legs hanging off the edge. she didn’t hesitate before shoving her middle finger deep into your sensitive pussy, thrusting in and out in a fury. you clenched around her finger almost instantly and ellie groaned in triumph at the feeling.

you were babbling apologies as she finger fucked you harshly, she added another finger and you lurched forward. the sensitivity of your cunt was unbearable and ellie knew this, making sure it felt too good. her free hand was being used to pin your arms to your back, not allowing you to move freely. her fingers were drenched in your juices, white stickiness oozed out all around her hand and she grunted, “gonna teach you to respect me, got it?”

you hardly heard her over your muffled groans into the blanket, you did your best to nod in response, her long fingers curved themselves inside of you hitting every possible corner. and just when she thought you’d had enough, she slipped the rest of her fingers inside of you violently pumping in and out. she let go of your arms and you gripped the blanket for life, feeling every thrust somehow deeper than the last. within seconds your head was yanked back, a fistfull of your hair wrapped in ellie’s hand she bent over over, her fingers still working their magic in your cunt. you were mumbling incoherently, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure when she whispered in your ear, “bet you’ll think twice before being such a brat again.” she took back her fingers, leaving you feeling empty and incomplete.

ellie flipped you over with ease and you landed on your back. you let out a gasp as she did and ellie took the opportunity to insert her sloppy, wet fingers into your mouth. you didn’t have to be told to suck on them, and ellie smirked as she watched you deepthroat her fingers. “such a good slut for me, aren’t you?”

you popped her fingers out of your mouth and she held up your chin to look at her, “yes officer williams.” you responded innocently.

she lowered herself to the bed’s height and snaked her arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. giving her the perfect view of your messy cunt. “pathetic,” she whispered, staring at it with cruel intentions. she hovered over your pulsing pussy, planting small kisses here and there, teasing you to insanity. “do you have something you want to ask me?” ellie taunted, leaving a long kiss on your clit making your back arch slightly, knowing you were desperate to cum again.

“please make me cum, please–” you begged her. and she brought her face down inches from your soaking cunt.

“please, what?” she asked again, her finger delicately dancing around your hole causing you to squirm.

“officer williams, please make me cum,” you sounded so desperate, and ellie loved it. looking down at your puffy pussy, she spit on it loudly and smashed her tongue into your folds. you gasped in response, your hands finding her hair and tugging gently. your hips buck under the pressure her mouth is putting on it and she holds you in place with her arms before sliding in a finger in your aching hole. she put pressure on your stomach, making her fingers feel all the more pleasurable and you moaned her name.

ellie was so entangled in how good you tasted that she didn’t care, licking up all your juices that were spilling out onto the bed. she sucked on your clit before coming up for air, “you ever,” she added another finger harshly, making you jump, “make me look bad,” her third finger entered you, and she curled them up still keeping pressure on your stomach, “again,” her last finger entered, stretching you out and you let out a groan, she seemed to shove them as deep as she could, making sure her point was getting across to you, “you’ll never cum again, got it?” she finished, thrusting all of her fingers passionately in and out of you and all you could do was nod.

“i need words,” she stated, knowing her strategy was working. she reconnected her mouth to your cunt while still penetrating it deeply. she knew you could barely form words, she knew what she was doing to you but you obeyed, wanting to cum around her fingers.

“i- fuck–” you gasped as she sucked on your clit yet again, knowing it would make it harder to speak. “won’t make you look bad again, promise,” you finally uttered, your breathing was erratic and ellie knew you were close to finishing as your legs shaked beside her. she loved having you this way and wondered why she hadn’t thought of this before to get you in line.

“atta girl, go on then. cum on my fingers.” she hummed against your clit, that was all you needed to hear. your back arched, feeling yourself growing closer to release. ellie’s fingers moved faster inside of you and you felt the familiar wave of pleasure wash over you from head to toe. your legs were shaking around ellie’s head, your moans could probably be heard down the hallway but ellie remained buried in your cunt, sucking up any and all of your juices as you finished.

when you finished convulsing, she lifted herself from in between your legs and gave you sensitive pussy a little tap as in well done. ellie grabbed your shirt off the floor and handed it to you gently as you sat up. “sprints in half an hour, don’t be late.” she uttered before walking out of your door, feeling accomplished. you almost thought about being late on purpose, wanting ellie to teach you more lessons but as you stood up your pussy was sore you decided against it. there’ll always be tomorrow.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fic #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut

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itsscromp · 3 months

Text

Ink me up

As per the recent poll, It's time to give our favourite soldier a brand spanking new tattoo, courtesy of his bestie. Co-credit:@callofdudes Word count:988

Before joining the army, You had a dream of becoming a tattoo artist, Wanting nothing more then to create amazing drawings and be able to do this for many people who wanted it. You even went and took classes on how to do so. But though you were now with the 141, You wouldn't change it either way, You still had that desire.

Finding online a professional tattoo kit, you ordered that and some ink too to mail to the base, Once arriving you set it all up. The knowledge of what you learnt in college never leaves you. As if it was all second-hand nature.

Simon you knew had a lot of tattoos, his whole sleeve wrapped in them, Maybe you could be able to give him a tattoo. So you got up and went to go find him. "Simon come check this out !!" You ushered him back to your room once you found him.

"What's got you all excited mate ??" He raised an eyebrow as he entered the room, Seeing the kit in front of him.

"I bought a tattoo kit online, I used to do them back in college" You smiled proudly.

He tilted his head slightly, a little confused "And what do you plan on doing with it ?? Give yourself a wonky little heart on your hand ??" He chuckled.

"If you'll be happy to know Riley, I have gotten solid good grades from classes and my clients" You smirked at him playfully. Having had work experience at shops too.

"Oh, I didn't know you had some experience, Good for you then. But I still don't know what you plan to do with it though" He looked over at the kit.

"Well, I was hoping I could give you guys tattoos, Maybe you as well, add a new one to your collection."

"Really ?? Is that your plan ??" He chuckled.

"Well, if you want too. I can set it up and we can do it now" You smiled proudly.

He contemplated it, He did want a new tattoo, But he didn't know what he wanted to get. "It depends what kind of dumb thing you'd try to put on my skin"

"As the client you have every choice on the design"

He smirked, Starting to consider it. "Ok, what can you do ??"

You then pulled out a tattoo book you ordered as well and handed it to him. "Have a look through this and we'll go from there."

"Your being professional about this" He said as he skimmed through the book.

"I can be unprofessional if you want" You smirked before snickering "Come on, like I would ever do something like that."

He smirked "I'm not taking any chance in letting you putting some wanky shit on my body" Joking.

"Oh come on si, Please ??" You pouted and gave him your signature puppy dog eyes. Simon knew you would pull the trick and tried to resist....... Oh but how can he refuse his bestie !!!!

So sighing and points at the tattoo he wants. "It's dumb but there is no way you could possibly fuck this up."

"Ok, let's get to it" You smiled and set up the machine "Ok, so where would you like it ??"

Simon pulled off his sweater and rolled up his right sleeve, relaxing in the chair you brought in. "I'll let you put it on my bicep... Don't. Fuck it up" He smirked.

"I won't, trust me" You created the stencil and put your gloves on, Rubbing the alcohol on Simon's bicep and placed the stencil on.

"Ok, let's get to work" You started up the machine, dipping the needle in the ink and got underway. Simon watched on as you pressed the needle against his skin gently, careful not to hurt him. He was really impressed with your skill as an artist. "You never told me you could tattoo" He watched on.

"Never underestimate me Simon" You said, not losing focus on the sketch at hand.

"I'll keep that in mind"

After about a couple of hours on the stencil. "Ok, onto the shading"

Swapping out the needle and dipping it back into the ink, You began to shade the tattoo, Simon continued to watch as you worked, The shading making the tattoo come to life. "You're doing better than I thought you would"

"Had a dream of doing this as a career before the military, It was just hard to find a vacant position at any shop, And I wasn't going to start my own business" You chuckled.

And after a few more hours, the tattoo was complete. "And done" You smiled.

"Wow, I would expected to have heard about this earlier, I'll admit I'm a little hurt" He smirked, shifting in the chair a little.

"Better late than never" You then pulled a mirror out and showed Simon the finished artwork.

Inspecting it, Damn you did a great job on this. He started to smile under his mask.

"You like it ??" You said a little nervously.

"Well would you look at that" He looked up at you.

"It's good huh ??" You perked up proudly.

"It's better than I had expected, It can stay on my skin"

"That's the point of a tattoo" You snickered.

"Yeah but this doesn't look like crap" He smiled and inspected it again.

You were insanely proud of your work.

"You know... Even if it looked like shit, I'd still like it. Because you made it, And it looked pretty cool I wont lie."

"Yeah ??"

"Yeah, I like it a lot, Mostly cause you put it there"

Y/n was so happy Simon loved his brand new tattoo, You soon became his artist after that, Always coming up with new designs for him, The kit was a very well made purchase.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

#platonic #reader insert #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley imagine #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine

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tiredmetalenthusiast · 27 days

Text

Poems of Love (Gaz x F!Reader)

This is part one of the Love letter series (In slow process, please be patient). Starting off with everyone’s favorite pretty boy Gaz! This is just a love poem from reader to our helicopter surivor!

Warnings: Violence against another person, mentions of racism, hurt with written comfort, fluff, writer has very, very little military knowledge!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you could have had it your way which you did but only a little bit, you would have scarred up the bitch that decided it was a great idea to talk shit about your sergeant. Price had intervened when he was brought in for the commotion, finding you and her in a pile on the ground of the mess hall, your fist repeatedly meeting her face. The guy she was with looked just as bad as she’ll look after Price had Ghost pull you off of her.

”Alright! What the hell is going on here?!” He turns to you expecting an answer, before you can speak however the girl you had been wailing on decided to speak up.

”She just went mental and attacked us!” Ghost scoffed, “Sounds like a load of shit private.” Ghost looks to Price who says nothing, still looking at you for an answer. “What happened, sergeant? I won't ask again.”

You took a breath to center yourself, placing a hand on Prices wrist, a sign you were truly pissed and grateful for your captain holding you back. You looked at Gaz who was staring at the floor, with Johnny patting his back. “Sir, the guys and I were simply enjoying our lunch, when Private Downs and her buddy Private Fallow decided it was an amazing idea to address Sergeant Garrick by racial slurs. I took it upon myself to defend his honor.”

Price looks at Gaz and Johnny, who confirm the story. Price turns you loose to Johnny so you can see if Gaz is okay. He had told you not to worry about it, to leave it be as it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before, he admired your sense of violent justice and need to defend him.

Price clears his throat, “Well, as it stands we here in the military, especially the 141, don’t take kindly to that sort of talk. You both being in the military, fairly new or not, should probably re-evaluate your life choices. If you find joy in tormenting your fellow high ranking officers perhaps we should remove you.”

”Remove us how?! It’s just words! W-we were just joking!” Ghost rolls his eyes and jostles Private Downs to shut her up. “You’ll shut your bleedin mouth! Sergeant Garrick is more of a soldier than you and your friend’ll ever be in your whole career!”

”Ghost take ‘em to my office. Sergeant!” “Captain?” “Good work defending your colleague, next time though try to make it a bit less bloody, eh? Cleaning duty for a week.” “Totally worth it sir!” Price and Ghost leave with Downs and Fallow in hand ready to put them through back to basic for behavioral and tolerance training.

Gaz had thanked you but told you it wasn’t necessary, he seemed distanced after that. Only saying hello in passing, you thought it was either what the two idiots had said or that he was mad at you, possibly both. Johnny and Ghost had assured you it wasn’t anything you did.

Taking the time you had to sit around after hours you penned him a letter. A poem really but you were hoping it would put him in a better mood. It took you a few hours but once you had finished it and read it over, you folded in up and went to slide it under his door for him to read in the morning.

-The next morning- Gaz pov-

He really wasn’t up for dealing with anyone today, especially not after yesterday's events, but none the less he had to get to up and start his day. Duty called and he had to be at morning training to help Ghost with recruits. He thought back to you and how fast you were to defend him, he was appreciative yes but it really wasn’t a big deal, it came with the military. Some people are just stuck in the Middle Ages like and you can’t help them.

Freshly showered and changed he was about to leave when he noticed a letter on the floor, his name scrawled across the front in beautiful script. He picked it up and sat at his desk to read it.

It looked like your hand writing but he doesn’t remember it looking so nice and neat, havin only ever seen you writing reports in messy, somewhat legible chicken scratch. As he opens it and begins to read he feels his heart swell.

‘To the prettiest man I know

Your bravery knows no bounds, leaving me breathless at your wonder. Akin to a warrior, a deity, war and peace become you. An angel.

Your beauty would be compared to that of Narcissus, of a warm summer day and lovely autumn nights. Your eyes bring delightful thoughts of dark chocolate in the shade and shine like the brightest amber whiskey in the light.

Skin aglow in the afternoon sun and glistening with sweat, who could ever deny you? Aphrodite herself would bargain with you for your secrets. Would regale you with tales of beauty and mark you as one yourself and no one would bat an eye in disagreement.

I look upon your beauty and heroism with awe and hope that one day I could stand in even a shred of your greatness. If you were a god I would worship at your alter for all of my days, the most devoted supplicant, spreading your praises through any means.’

Gaz must have read it 4 times and he didn’t know what to say, his eyes were a little bit misty. Others had praised him yes, for his efforts on the field, his medals, but no one had ever called him a deity. No one had ever complimented his eyes like that. He rubbed at is eyes, letting out a huff, before folding up the letter and placing it in his desk drawer before heading out to morning practice. His heart feeling lighter.

If you would like to join the Tag list comment and I’ll add you!

Tag List: @cumikering

#~Harley finally writes something🫣#The Love Letter Series #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #Kyle Gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #kyle garrick x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

Text

Same Old Truck

Jake Seresin x fem!reader 7k words (yeah i know)

summary: It’s been fifteen years since you last saw Jake Seresin. Back then, you were head over heels in love with him. Now you aren’t much better off. The only question: If it ended back then, how can you be sure it’ll last now?

a/n: still no clue about the us military. i googled it all and as we know google is inaccurate as shit so dont mind that also that’s one of my favourite jake gifs so.... yeah.

top gun masterlist

Usually on a Friday night, you would be sitting at home with a nice cup of tea, watching TV. Sometimes, you would be out with friends, drinking and dancing. Today, you were back at your old high school’s gym in a summer dress, champagne in one hand and phone in the purse at your side, chatting to people you hadn’t seen since graduation.

Everyone had come back today. All of the guys you had spent years next to in class, laughing with over lunch in the cafeteria, gossiping with, studying with, crying with. There were so many memories here, good ones as well as bad ones, and you’d dabbed at your cheeks more times already than you wanted to admit. But who could blame you? So many stories were being told again, half of which you’d forgotten over the years, and new ones as well - these of careers and weddings and kids. It was unbelievable how much and how fast everybody had grown up.

Yet as happy as you were to be here, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread too, couldn’t help the gnawing in your stomach, the nerves bubbling up, the voices in your head that had been arguing for days now - Will he come? He’s far away after all. Do you even want him to come?

And after an hour of being here, an hour of not having seen him once, you were beginning to think that all that hope, all that dread, all that nervous anticipation had been for nothing in the end - he hadn’t come. You scolded yourself for the bitter taste that thought left in your mouth. You tried to wash it down with champagne. When that didn’t work, you excused yourself from the group you’d been catching up with to find something stronger.

And, of course, just as you had lost hope, just as you decided fuck him, let’s get drunk, just as you turned around to walk to the bar, there he was, in all his glory, standing in the doorway with a killer grin, shirt with the top buttons undone, hands stuffed lazily in the pockets of his jeans, and as you felt yourself stiffen at nothing but the sight of him, you realised that even fifteen years later you were no better off than you had been in senior year in high school.

Well, shit.

A chorus of cheers went through the crowd when he stepped in, like he was some superstar, some hero. Of course. Obviously you weren’t the only one still stuck on high school impressions.

Jake Seresin made it all of two steps into the gym before he was surrounded, shaking hands and greeting people and offering everyone a charming smile. You stood, dumbfounded, frozen in your spot - how you’d hoped he’d come. How you’d begged he wouldn’t. How you’d prayed he’d show up. How you’d pleaded he’d stay far, far away.

His eyes met yours and you could feel your knees going weak at once. Goddamn, you had to get yourself together. You were a grown ass woman, an adult with her own successful career, her own apartment, her own cat, her own fucking life, not a teenage girl anymore wooed simply by the attention of the popular guy.

At least that was what you told yourself as you tore your eyes away and forced yourself to turn around and walk up to the bar to pour a whiskey, ignoring your shaking hands as best as you could. One of the advantages of being an adult, of course, was this: There was alcohol at the prom now. No more forbidden bottles of wine and beer stolen from parents’ cabinets to sip after midnight, when the gym had closed and the teachers were going home and you were perched on the back of Jake’s truck with the rest of your friends in your dresses and suits.

“He still looks at you like that.”

You almost jumped out of your own skin at your old friend’s voice. You’d lost contact years ago - sad, really, because you’d always loved her. You remembered her in your bedroom, rummaging through your closet like it was hers, flitting about with the makeup she’d brought from home to help you get ready for your first date. You could remember her sleeping over any chance she got, you could remember staying at her’s every Saturday, you could remember dinner with her parents and torturing her little brother and staring in awe when she had got her first laptop. You’d been through thick and thin with her.

“Jesus, don’t scare me like that”, you said, pushing the well of emotions down as far as you could. You were here to enjoy a night of catching up, not cry every time someone talked to you. She raised an eyebrow.

“You still look at him like that too.”

“Look at who like what?”, you asked, your fingers skimming the rim of your glass. You weren’t dumb - she was talking about him, of course, about Jake, about the way you’d frozen in place when you’d seen him. You had been hoping it hadn’t been as obvious, but it seemed it had been (despite your prayers).

“You should go talk to him”, she said, brushing over your question completely. You bit your lip and looked down.

“It’s been fifteen years”, you said softly. “I don’t know what I’d even say.”

“It’s been fifteen years for everyone”, she countered. “And let me just remind you that reading people’s body language is part of my job. You very obviously want to talk to him.”

Right - you’d forgotten she’d studied psychology.

“I...” You took a deep breath and glanced up at her. “I’m not saying I don’t want to talk to him. I’m just saying... I don’t know what I’d tell him. And I don’t know if he even wants to talk to me.”

She snorted at that.

“Are you kidding me? He’s been eyeing you from over there since he got here, he definitely wants to talk to you. He probably would’ve already if he wasn’t being cornered by literally half the people here at once.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course he’s still just as popular.”

You couldn’t help but grin. You knew very well that she loved him - at least that she had back then - and that she was feigning the annoyance just like she always had. They’d got in so much trouble together, pranked each other to the point where they’d both ended up in the ER, and you were surprised that they’d lost contact, though you knew yourself just how easily that happened. Time really did sneak up on you in life. You’d be surrounded by friends one day and when you looked back the day after that, years would have passed and they would all be off in some faraway corners of the world without you.

Your eyes started filling with tears for the millionth time today. You tried to blink them away, but she noticed before you could.

“Oh god”, she said, putting a hand to your arm, “Don’t cry or I’ll cry too.”

“Sorry”, you laughed, in an attempt to get your mood back up. “It’s just- Sometimes I just wish we could go back. I didn’t even realise how much I missed you all. Promise me we’ll stay in touch after this, please? I don’t want to lose you again.”

You could see the tears in her eyes when she sniffled and hugged you, throwing her arms around you with a fevor that nearly knocked you back.

“Promise! And you promise to come to my wedding.”

You laughed as you held her close. “Definitely.”

When she pulled away again, you had to dab at your eyes, but she wasn’t looking at you - she was looking at something behind you, the corners of her lips tugging upwards, and the twinkle in her expression reminded you of the way she’d always looked at Jake the second before tackling him.

Jake, you thought, and immediately your body reacted (to the mere thought of him, no less), a cold shiver running down your spine, your jaw clenching, your knees going weak. She winked at you. You had half a mind not to turn around.

“Loverboy heading your way”, she muttered. She was already backing away when you came to your senses.

“Don’t you want to, you know, catch up too?”

Maybe it would be less weird if she stayed. Maybe you’d be less affected. Maybe... Or maybe not. But she wasn’t about to let you figure that out.

“I’ve got his number saved”, she shrugged. “You just relax and enjoy it.”

Relax and enjoy it, sure, sure, because that was so easy. Because you hadn’t spent the last fifteen years drinking up every tidbit of information about him that had somehow crossed your path. Which hadn’t been much anyway. He’d become a naval aviator, just like he’d always wanted. He’d been travelling all over the US. He’d come for the holidays whenever he’d been able to. That was that. So basically, you knew nothing. Nothing at all.

You didn’t know if he was still the same Jake you’d dated back then. You had no clue if perhaps he was an entirely different person now.

But you would have to find out. You would have to jump in at the deep end, because you were standing all alone at the bar with Jake coming up behind you. Your fingers swiped over your glass. You didn’t want to turn around. Yet everything inside of you was screaming at you to do it, just to look at him, just to know if this was the same guy that you’d been head-over-heels in love with in high school.

He tapped your shoulder. You could smell his aftershave. Your hand wrapped around your glass as you took one last, deep breath and turned to him.

He’d grown. He was taller than you by a head now. His shoulders were broader. His hair was shorter. His hands were bigger, gripping the neck of a bottle of beer. His fingers were longer. You were certain that he was hiding a set of well-defined abs beneath his shirt.

But his face was still shaven - you remembered him doing it with your pink razor in your bathroom one Monday morning before school, when he hadn’t had the time the day before - and his eyes were still the same shade of greenish grey that you’d never quite managed to figure out.

You had to smile involuntarily.

“If it isn’t the prom king in all his glory”, you grinned, hiding your nerves under an all too familiar facade of teasing and flirting. “Just had to make a late, dramatic entrance, did you?”

He grinned as well, resting his elbow on the bar top, his aftershave fully clogging up your senses.

“Well, if it ain’t the prom queen”, he drawled. He paused to look at you. Really look at you, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, and usually you’d think you would feel embarrassed or shy, but Jake had looked at you so many times before that all you felt was a sense of familiarity. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been eighteen years old. But you did nevertheless.

“You look stunning”, he said after a moment. You couldn’t help the heat spreading through your body like molten gold.

“You don’t look too bad yourself”, you smiled - the understatement of the century.

Jake Seresin had always looked just a bit too handsome for his own good. It had got him in and out of trouble often enough. But, well, back then he’d been a teenager, hardly an adult. Now he was grown up. He was wider and broader and older and if anything, he’d become even more handsome, even more attractive over the years: he’d got tan and obviously he’d been working out. His job seemed to be doing good for him.

You couldn’t believe that after all these years, you were standing in front of him again. Looking at a man living his dream, not a boy just dreaming it anymore. He’d been extraordinary back then - now he was nothing short of impressive.

You didn’t know how long you’d been staring at each other. It could’ve been anything from a few seconds to a few minutes. You didn’t mind. You didn’t think you’d have minded a few hours either. Compared to fifteen years, that was nothing.

“I got off the plane two hours ago”, he explained eventually. “Hence the dramatic entrance.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“You got here today?”, you asked.

“Two hours ago”, he repeated with a grin.

“Shit”, you laughed. “What’d you do, miss the first three flights?”

“Had to work ‘till five.”

“Five?” You slipped your phone out of your pocket to take a look at the time. “It’s ten. How’d you get here in five hours?”

His grin widened.

“Kind of my job to be good with planes.”

So he was still as cheeky as he’d been back then. And his accent had hardly changed - you’d dreaded hearing him with something like a Brooklyn one. God knows where he’d spent his time.

But no. He was still your Jake. Your Jake from back then. Jake who’d taken you on an hour-long drive in his car just to go stargazing on a random Thursday night, Jake who’d climbed in through your window when there’d been no reason to, Jake who’d left you his cowboy hat even though it was his most prized possession. Jake.

“Is it your job to get off the plane looking flawless too?”, you asked, heartbeat quickening. You’d never had inhibitions when it came to complimenting him. Sometimes you’d thought you shouldn’t fuel his ego further - though in the end you’d always decided he deserved it. Your friends had been so annoyed with you, but you’d never minded. You’d never minded his arrogant grins or that over-confident twinkle in his eyes. Maybe because you knew that despite it all, he was a big sweetheart, or maybe because it was all just so very justified. Because he was that talented, because he was that charming, because he was that attractive. So why, good lord, why should he not have known it?

“You know I always look flawless”, he chuckled.

“Ah, yes”, you said. “Of course. Always have, always will.”

He paused for a moment. Then he said, “Much like you.”

Your grin widened. He’d never seemed to have a problem complimenting you, either. God - he was here, he was real. After fifteen long years, you were finally seeing him again. And apart from a few differences, it was like he’d never left.

“I missed you”, you whispered with a smile still on your lips. You didn’t leave him time to respond, too afraid that his answer might not be one you wanted to hear, that he might not have thought about you at all. Which you really couldn’t have held against him - it’d been so long you wouldn’t even have been surprised. “Now tell me what you’ve been up to. I want to know everything. If you did become the best pilot the navy’s ever seen, if you did visit every state. If your dream turned out just as good as you wanted it to.”

He did tell you. He told you about the academy, about the planes, about the places he’d been stationed at. (”That’s classified”, he chuckled when you asked him why he was stationed in San Diego now. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”) He told you about the people he worked with, about what a callsign was, about being one of the only ones on active duty who’d shot down enemy planes. But more importantly than that, he told you about what it felt like to fly. About the freedom of being up in the air, about being responsible for only him and his own plane, about power and liberty and about feeling like he belonged.

You had to bite your lip to keep from getting too emotional again. He’d lost none of the charm of the young boy dreaming about all this, about planes, about flying, about how one day he’d be up there himself. He’d promised you - lying on the roof of his car, wrapped up in his arms, staring at the darkening sky and pointing out contrails - He’d promised you that one day he’d do it. You had made him swear he wouldn’t stop at anything to get there.

“You seem happy”, you said when he’d finished, a genuine smile on your lips. He did seem happy. And you were happy for him.

“I am”, he agreed. He looked at you again, looked you in the eyes with an easy grin, voice turning all serious. “Just sometimes think I could be happier.”

You felt the intensity of his eyes stronger, then. Heat rushed to your cheeks. You grabbed your glass more tightly.

“Happier how?”, you asked, a bit breathless, because you thought you knew the answer. But you wanted to hear him say it. Hear him admit that he’d not forgotten about you. That he’d remembered the little girl from school throughout the years. That maybe after the great love story of your lives had turned into just another high school romance, you hadn’t been the only one to stop and ask yourself if maybe it really had been the love of your life, if maybe you had blown your chance of ever finding love like that again.

You’d cursed him so often. After dates, after breakups, after watching rom-coms on your couch with your cat curled up in your lap and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream perched on your leg. Cursed him for ruining men for you so early on, for setting your standards too high, for going away back then, for never really coming back.

Jake reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. He put it in front of you. You frowned.

“Take off the case”, he urged. Your curiosity won, so you let go off your glass to peel off his phone case - plain black, but you hadn’t expected anything else. A piece of paper came free. You looked up at him with raised eyebrows. When he nodded, you glanced back, dropping the case onto the bar top to unfold the paper. It was barely bigger than your hand and even though it looked torn at the edges, it must have been folded carefully after every time it had been looked at.

You recognised your own scrawly handwriting the very moment you glanced at it, gasping up at Jake, who only grinned.

This is your guardian angel, you’d written, in the middle of maths class one fateful day close to graduation, here to tell you to pay attention. You won’t be a very good pilot at all if you can’t concentrate on what you’re doing because you’re staring at me.

So you’ll be up in the air with me?, he’d scrawled below that.

Always, you’d scribbled. Even if you can’t see me.

You could remember that day well, mainly because that morning he’d been accepted into USNPS, the first step on his way to chasing his dream. He’d pulled up to your house and you’d already been closing the door, but unlike usual he hadn’t stayed in his car, instead he’d come sprinting at you with the biggest grin and you’d already known what had happened just by looking at him, so you’d run at him at full speed, abandoning your schoolbag and jumping up into his arms, drawing him in and kissing the grin right off of his face.

“You kept that?”, you asked with a laugh.

“Of course”, he said. “I took it up with me the first time and came back in one piece. Haven’t flown a single time without it.”

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. If you weren’t careful, you’d fall back into your old habit and keep at it until you drew blood, but...

“So a piece of me has been up in the air with you every time”, you realised.

“I couldn’t leave behind my guardian angel now, could I?”

You felt a hot tear running down your cheek that you did your best to wipe away without letting him see. He’d not only kept one of your notes all these years (and you’d written each other a ton of those), he’d used it as a lucky charm - Jake, who’d never been religious, much less superstitious. He’d kept it, he’d kept it close to him for fifteen years, he’d taken it up in the air with him every single time. He’d made you a part of his dream even after you’d let him go.

“I actually did write you a letter, you know”, you admitted, quietly, almost whispering. “I did even before they’d accepted you. I wanted to give it to you the day I had to kiss you goodbye at the airport. It said... it said that I had always known you’d do it and that I was sure you’d become the best of them all. That I was always right anyway so you could trust me. That I would always be there for you, no matter how far away you went. And that I’d... that I’d be there even when you were up in the air. I folded it so it’d fit in a pocket. So that you could carry it like a lucky charm even though I knew you didn’t believe in them.”

He was smiling when you found the strength to look at him again.

“Why didn’t you give it to me?”, he asked and for just a moment you thought you heard a kind of sadness in his tone. You shrugged.

“We’d broken up. I didn’t want to make it harder for either of us.”

He paused. You didn’t look away this time. The paper still between your fingers, a chorus of ‘He never forgot’ in your mind.

“But you still came to say goodbye at the airport.”

You took a deep breath. Yes - you had driven to the airport that day, had sprinted to the gate you’d known he was supposed to be at and tackled him just before he could go through security. That was the last time you’d seen him - waving at you as you sobbed, a smile on his lips that you knew he was only putting on to seem strong for you, before he disappeared into the gate and you realised just who you’d lost.

“I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye”, you admitted. “I had to see you one last time.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And that didn’t make it harder?”

“Only a bit”, you chuckled, pretending there weren’t tears dropping off your chin. “But it would’ve been worse if I’d had to live with the knowledge that I never got to properly say goodbye. I thought I’d never get to see you again. I mean, we all knew that you’d be successful and that you wouldn’t come back. What’s a little town in the middle of Texas got to offer a multi-million-dollar plane-flying naval aviator such as yourself?”

You glanced from him back down to the paper in your hands, your own handwriting, and folded it carefully again. You couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, not while you were living through the memories of two beautiful years and one horrible one to get over them. Maybe all this was pathetic - you’d thought so a lot of times before. Maybe it was pathetic that you were clinging on to a boy from high school, to someone you hadn’t seen in fifteen years, to someone you knew - and had always known - you simply did not have a future with. But every time you met someone else, every time you considered the possibility of settling down, of marriage and growing old, you had to think back and compare and god, Jake Seresin really had ruined your love life so very early on. He’d ruined dating for you once and for all. Your miserable attempts at hookups and boyfriends had always ended the same: with you waving goodbye because none of it felt good enough to be called love. None of it came close enough to him.

Jake hooked his fingers under your chin and turned your face to his, his thumb brushing over your skin to wipe away your tears. You bit your lip, the weight of his eyes on yours enough to make your nerves run rampant.

“What about my dream girl waiting back home?”, he asked quietly.

You took a deep breath. Thoughts were racing through your mind at such a speed that you couldn’t grasp a single one - shreds of “dream girl” and “after all these years” and “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck”. A lot of that last one, really. With how close he was, those too-familiar eyes boring into yours and the feeling of his touch for what was the first time in a decade, you couldn’t even say you were surprised.

“Dream girl?”, you repeated breathlessly, your voice hoarse to the point of breaking. You had half a mind to stay where you were (not that you could move a muscle). He smiled.

“Dream girl.”

Your brain short-circuited.

This was better even than the wildest of scenarios you’d been imagining since you’d got the invite to the reunion - hell, this was better than what you’d been imagining over the past fifteen years. You’d pictured over and over what it would be like to see him again, to talk to him and to touch him again, and every time you had scolded yourself for doing so because it would never happen anyway. Now here you were. And Jake was more breath-taking, more overwhelming than ever, driving you to the edge of insanity with just his presence, a grown version of the boy you’d kept close to your heart all throughout your life, a man now who’d achieved everything he’d ever wanted, and he was telling you, you and no one else, after fifteen years, that you were his dream girl. That you were the only thing this whole town still had to offer, the only thing he was still missing.

You had to close your eyes and take a shaky breath.

“Jake”, you said quietly. “We haven’t seen each other in over a decade. You don’t even know who I am anymore.”

His thumb kept brushing over your skin even after the tears had dried.

“So let me get to know you again”, he muttered.

You smiled. It was like he was plucking the - in themselves very few - doubts from your mind with such care that you felt fuzzy inside. You opened your eyes again to look at him, only to catch him still staring at you, lips curled in something between a genuine smile and a cheeky grin.

“I went to college in California because I had to get away from home for a bit”, you started in a whisper. If he wanted to get to know you, he’d have to make do with the run down of your life for now. “Studied child care. Came back and got a job as a kindergarden teacher here. I got an apartment, I got a car, I got a cat. You know, just like I’d always said. It all worked out exactly like I’d planned.”

Jake raised his eyebrows. His fingers had travelled from your chin to cup your jaw softly, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“So you’re living your dream”, he said.

“I guess so.”

“Impressive.”

“Says you.”

There was a pause - Jake was just looking at you again, smiling, but you didn’t feel like complaining. You never had, you certainly never would. He could spend the rest of his life looking at you if he wanted to.

“Green still your favourite colour?”, he asked. You nodded. If it were anyone else, maybe you would’ve been surprised that they’d remembered but god, it was him, you would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t. He’d remembered every little detail about you back then, from the nail polish you had used to the sound of your father’s footsteps coming down the staircase.

“Your mum’s hot chocolate still the only you’ll drink?”

You nodded again. Your smile was quickly turning into a broad grin.

“Do you still turn the volume all the way up when our song plays?”

You swallowed. And nodded again. Your song - the one that had played in the background for your first kiss, for your last, for your first dance at prom, that time you’d baked in his kitchen, countless more when you’d been driving around in his truck. You had turned it up all the way whenever you’d heard it, no matter where or when. And Jake had pulled you close to him and started dancing with you, twirling you this way and that until you collapsed against his chest, smiling and laughing and kissing him. Even after he’d left, you had always turned up the volume, just now with no one to dance to it with.

“So I do still know you”, he muttered. You paused to examine him.

“And do I still know you?”, you asked, voice barely more than a breath. His thumb on your cheek stilled. Instead you felt him reach for your waist, tugging you closer, so close that you had to tilt your head back to keep looking at him. You felt your breath catch.

“You’ll have to find out”, he drawled.

“I’d like to”, you smiled. “I’d really like to. It’s just... How do we know it’s not gonna end like before again?”

He was so close that you could kiss him now. He felt like home, all familiar and comfortable and cozy, like love and adventure and sparks in your stomach. He was real, he was here, right now, right there, right in front of you, touching you, talking to you. This wasn’t some fantasy - and that was why you were scared.

It was all fun and games imagining it. Imagining that you’d meet him again and fall for him again and that you’d spend the rest of your life with him because he was the only man you’d ever truly love. But this, this was reality, this was the real world with all its obstacles and its difficulties. The problem was that you remembered like it was yesterday how you had broken up - why you had broken up.

Afterwards you’d been sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat of his truck, letting your tears fall and drop onto your shirt, onto his shirt that you’d been wearing, staring out of the window at the sky and the scenery change, blankly for the very first time. You had been hugging yourself, arms wrapped around your torso, and the radio hadn’t been playing - the radio had always played. But not then. He had been driving in silence and you hadn’t said anything either and when he had pulled up in the driveway in front of your house, you had got out without another word and paused just before closing the door.

“I love you, Jake”, you’d said. “I’ll never not love you.”

And he’d said “I love you too. More than you’ll ever know” and then you had shut the door and not looked back at him once as you had walked up to the house, fumbled for your keys and sunken down into a puddle of human limbs in the hallway, sobbing and screaming and struggling for breath.

“Because it was the wrong time back then”, he said now, holding you close to him.

“And this is the right time?”, you asked.

“We’ll have to find out”, he said.

There was a certainty to his voice, a determination in his eyes that told you he wasn’t saying it lightly. Jake Seresin was never saying anything lightly. So despite your fear, you had to smile at him.

“Kiss me”, you breathed.

You didn’t have to think about it, didn’t have to ponder the what’s and if’s or any of the consequences. If there was one thing you knew about him, it was that when he did something, anything, he would come out a winner, because that was just what he did: win. Any situation, any challenges, any difficulties thrown at him. It was why you had always been able to trust him completely, to follow him blindly. Because Jake Seresin would never do something he wasn’t a hundred percent sure of.

So when he pulled you close, when he leaned in, when your heart stopped beating for the moment that his eyes travelled to your lips, when you felt his breath on your skin, the last of your doubts faded away. And when his lips met yours, the last of your thoughts left right with them and your eyes fluttered shut. Because the kiss was soft and gentle, because neither of you moved for a second, because you were holding your breath in fear that this moment might be a dream after all, because he put an arm around your waist and held you close, because your hands found their way to his jaw, cupping his face, holding him there as firmly and as carefully as you could, as if not wanting to break him or maybe just not wanting to break the kiss. Because he tasted like mint and beer and vanilla somehow and because he smelled of sandalwood and spice and something so distinctly him. Because it was so familiar and so new at the same time.

Because when he moved his lips against yours, when he deepened the kiss, your feet suddenly weren’t on the ground anymore, not anywhere near the earth, and if you had opened your eyes you probably would have seen heaven, but you didn’t because why would you have, why would you have with his arm around you and his hand holding your cheek and his lips on yours so perfectly.

There were fireworks going off in your heart, butterflies going berserk in your tummy, warmth unfurling in every part of your body.

He tasted of your very first kiss and your last and every single one in between that, of the memories of so many: your legs wrapped around his waist, waves crashing against your bodies, friends cheering from the beach; your arms around his neck, the hood of his jacket, too big for you anyway, pulled over your head, snowflakes catching on your nose; his fingers skipping over your cheek, pulling you close to him, rain dripping against the umbrella he was holding over the two of you; the warmth of his sweater and a cup of tea, sitting cross-legged on his windowsill, his lips barely ghosting over yours, quickly, softly, as to not disturb your stargazing.

When he pulled back, you were tempted to chase after him for another kiss, but instead you just smiled at him. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed, thumb still brushing over your cheek.

“I waited so long for that”, he muttered. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

“No longer than I have”, you chuckled. You were still a little breathless and a lot emotional. He opened his eyes and pulled back a bit to look at you, the ghost of a grin dancing across his lips.

“No”, he admitted. “Probably not.”

You wanted nothing more than to bathe in this feeling of joy, of bliss, of finally being back home, but...

“Jake”, you whispered. “Why did you never come see me? You visited your parents at least once a year for Christmas. Why now?”

He pulled away from you, drawing his arm back and his hand from your jaw, and you felt horribly lonely at once, like you’d made some irreversible mistake and hurt him deeply. He grabbed the neck of his beer bottle and took a sip. Your teeth found your bottom lip again and you reached for your long abandoned whiskey glass, fingertips skimming over the rim as you watched him from the side. Eventually, he let out a chuckle and shrugged.

“I was scared”, he said quietly. You raised your eyebrows.

“Scared?”, you repeated. You couldn’t believe that any word related to fear was rolling off his tongue. Jake Seresin was never scared. He simply didn’t do fear. “You? That can’t be.”

He laughed then and looked back up at you and you felt yourself smile, relieved that you didn’t seem to have hurt him after all.

“It’s true. Sadly.”

You grinned and shook your head, still in shock that not only he’d been afraid at all, but that he was admitting it - to you, to himself. He really must have grown a lot over the years.

“So why now, all of a sudden?”, you asked.

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you, taking in your expression, thinking about your question and how to answer it or thinking about if to answer it at all, you didn’t know.

“I flew a mission two months ago.” He’d gone serious. “A few of us almost didn’t come back. Makes you think about your priorities in life.”

You couldn’t help the lump in your throat or the way your fingers stilled. You’d always tried to ignore just how dangerous his job actually was, what was on the line every time he started the plane. Once you’d asked him about it, about why he would purposefully put himself at risk like that, and he’d looked at you in earnest and asked you if you would not do the same for your dream, if you would decide any different, decide to keep yourself safe with no concern for the children in your care. You’d smiled and kissed him instead of giving him an answer. It had been obvious enough.

“So... you’ve been rethinking priorities?”, you asked carefully.

Priorities. That one word had held so much power all those years ago. It had been the reason he’d left, the reason you’d stayed, the reason you’d let him leave, the reason he’d let you stay. Priorities. Over a decade later and it was still haunting you. You’d done your own fair share of thinking about it.

“You haven’t?”, he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. You had to smile as well, shaking your head slightly as you chuckled.

“I have.”

He raised his eyebrows as if to say I told you so.

“You really think we can do this”, you realised, somehow not surprised. Jake just didn’t take unnecessary risks. He nodded.

“I do.”

It had been fifteen years. Fifteen years that you’d spent without him, without anything - no calls, no texts, no nothing. But here he was and despite what should be logical and reasonable and what you should probably do, you knew that you’d still do anything he asked. If he was serious about this, you would be too. If he thought you could manage it, then you would manage it.

“How long are you gonna be here?”, you asked. He chuckled.

“Two weeks.”

“Already got a place to stay?”

He raised his eyebrows at that, amusement apparent in his expression, and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Not necessarily.”

“Alright”, you said, trying your hardest not to look too cheeky. “How would you like a cozy little apartment with absolutely no room service but a fully functioning kitchen and a very cute alarm at 3am every night called my cat?”

Jake smiled.

“Sounds lovely.”

“You’re saying that now”, you snorted. “Wait ‘till you get punched in the face by one too-big possum.”

“Sounds very lovely.”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your whiskey - it was almost empty by now and the clock read half past eleven. Was it acceptable to leave already? You’d talked to most everybody you’d wanted to catch up with so far, exchanged numbers with everyone you wanted to keep in touch with. There was nothing really keeping you here.

“Do you...” You bit your lip, suddenly shy for some reason. Maybe it’d been too long to still feel confident when suggesting something like this. “Do you want to get out?”

His grin deepened, turned smug, and he raised his eyebrows, emptying his beer at once.

“I hear there’s an apartment waiting for me”, he said.

“And a demon possum”, you reminded with a laugh.

“Not to forget.”

Silence fell, comfortable, only for a second. He was here and he was real and he had kissed you and you were taking him home. Taking him home because maybe this time it would last. Because you felt fifteen years younger with him, like a girl in her last year of high school. Because you wanted all that again, everything that since then you had only read of in romance novels and watched on screens. That “love of my life”, that “once in a lifetime”, that “heaven on earth”. Maybe you were stupidly optimistic. Maybe you remembered it all through rose-coloured glasses and the perception of a teenage girl.

But maybe it would be even better. Maybe this time it really would last. Maybe you had, in fact, both rethought priorities. Maybe you had both come to the same conclusion. Maybe this time, love would play just as important of a role for your futures as your careers had back then. Maybe what Jake said was true - maybe this was the right time.

“I’ve got my truck parked outside”, he said, putting the beer bottle down on the bar top.

“The same old truck?”, you asked. That truck had been through a lot with the two of you. You’d been through a lot with that truck. You couldn’t believe it still existed.

“Same old truck”, he nodded. You shook your head as you grinned at him. You’d had your first kiss there, you’d said your first I love you’s there - you’d said your last there too.

So you puzzled his phone back together, held it out to him and drawled:

“Then take me for a ride, cowboy.”

#top gun #top gun x reader #x reader #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader

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brainr0t-landfill · 2 months

Text

🌃 Mercurial

ghoap x male reader

Chapter Four: Nausea

"I will poison all your happy times, I will love you like the ashes in my cigarette box."

-The Crane Wives, Tounges and Teeth

(money insecurity, unhealthy relationship, implied homelessness, anxiety)

The on the road life is better suited for you, you feel more secure with the peeling, old wallpapers of whichever hotel you end up in than the walls you had painted with Johnny the beds reeking of mildew feel more familiar than the wide warm one you used to share with them.

Faces forgotten before you can commit them to memory, places gone with nothing to mourn them by, nightly vigels to the best thing that ever happened to you spent anxiously looking out foggy windows for any silhoutte resembling theirs, listening for uniform footsteps louder than an earthquacke and as familiar as the little compartment you've sewn in your backpack, containing a new ID, fake passoport ,ever-changing burner phones and your unstable money supply.

You're in your element when no one knows you, when people don't commit your face to memory, when they're ingenuine and changing. it's familiar and homey when you know every escape route and every card in the deck, it's not so familiar too with the ever present threat of being found breathing down your neck, you know too well how attached they are and how many strings they have to pull, you've seen it firsthand.

Even then you can't blame them, they fell for someone they thought was good and from this distance it's easier then ever to paint yourself as the villan, the one who stirred the water when all was well, pushed buttons he knew he shouldn't have pushed, tested boundaries that had been set in stone when they were finnaly comfortable, when all was finnaly well.

It started out small, just a way to relieve your tension, just a way to adjust and get some breathing room;

It was the small ritualistic details you started neglecting at first, not stocking the pantry, keeping the house messy before they came home from deployments, not kissing them goodnight or goodbye. They didn't get mad, they didn't even notice, John stepped up readily when you neglected the house and Simon happily went out for groceries whenever you 'forgot', and that set you off worst. The little things you'd built your life, your place in the relationship around where unimportant to them, just something someone else could do without much fuss.

Then it was keeping the door unlocked on the night you knew they'd be coming home, sleeping on the couch by yourself with the excuse of 'feeling smothered', going out and not telling them whene you were going or when you'd be back knowing you were leaving then anxious and frazzled worried for your safety and nothing else, they were good, too good for somone like you. So good that Simon sat you down and explained that he understood you needed some space and that them being gone one day and then then being so present and loud could be hard to get used to.

"Me 'n Johnny just want ya safe angel."

Simon and that understanding smile on his face, always considerate and understanding to the people he loved like a wise parent lecturing a misbehaving yet well meaning child. You spat in the face of that.

"You both are overreacting Si, I know y'all got this skewed view of the world because the military n shit but I'm an adult, I don't need bodyguards."

His face fell, John turned around momentarily to check on the conversation.

"It's not like that, 'n you should know by now. We love you, we want you safe, you're the one with the skewed view and if you keep this bullshit up there's gonna be reprucussions-"

"Simon."

John cut in walking over to the kitchen table and giving him a look, Simon deflated running a hand over his face and you felt the familiar pain of being a disappointment, of misguiding and upsetting. It was wose when you know you love them and do it anyway knowing the things they'd been through.

"Sorry.."

You mumble, his dark eyes soft as they met yours. His bare hands clasped on his lap, he's rubbing his own knuckles.

"Jus' - jus' be safe yeah? Take care o' yourself when we can't, keep our heads clear? For us, angel."

You nodded knowing full well that despite your guilt you had found a nerve and you weren't the good person you had cruelly convinced them you were. You revealed in uncertainties and tension, you hadn't been anywhere this long since your teenage years when you got kicked out. You weren't deserving of this care, this love so you were doing the right thing driving them away or perhaps you just liked being cared for in such avident and raw way either way you were dead weight at best and a parasite at worst.

The tension rose when you kept doing it, John was the first to snap when you introduced them as your friends to some work acquaintances. He broke down, screamed raw and bloody, punched a wall and pulled out his hair as Simon desperately tried to play mediator.

"How could ye?! How fucking could ye, you ungrateful, lying cunt!"

John screamed as you stood leaning against the wall his knuckles were still kissed white and bleeding from the hole they had left in the drywall. His aquamarine eyes squinted and wet, his breaths quick and shallow like a wounded bird.

"We live together! We sleep in the same god damn bed, that's my sweater on ye back, 'n ye sit there and call us your mates?! Yer buddies?! I swear to fucking god ye better have brain damage or I wi-"

Simon grabbed him by the shoulders before he could go on any further. You understood why he was mad, he had opened his heart out to someone he had trusted for so long not knowing he was a snake in the grass, he wanted his love, his safe space, his importance in your life validated especially after all the anxiety you had put them both through with your planned recklessness.

And you broke, in retrospect it could have been so much better if you hadn't, maybe then you'd have some resentfull exs instead of this manhunt with every card stacked against you.

You sobbed, apologized over and over again, promised you'd be better, promised you'd behave, you loved them, you really loved them, the pain in Johnny's voice was unlike anything you'd seen and you meant it too. You didn't wanna be stranded and drifting again, by yourself in the world.

"Ye know we won't ever let ye go angel, promise."

You broke your promises time and time again, they snapped and you broke, but guilt wasn't enough to scratch this constant itch under your skin. Waiting, salivating for when they finnaly got fed up with you like everyone else, it enraged you when they didn't.

Shit hit the fan when you spent two nights at a friend's house and kept your phone on silent, came home with her perfume spritzed on your neck, then you ended up in the cabin and realized some bonds had to be severed phisicaly.

So here you are now, in the roadie lifestyle you're used to, overgrown beard and bloodshot eyes, feet bloody and swollen in your shoes, always cold, always tired, never quite clean. Walking home with a measly paycheck in your pocket and TV dinner in a shopping bag, you're always tense, always on edge knowing full well they've most likely moved on, hopefully.

Life on the road isn't as secure as it used to be, not when their love made you soft and comfortable.

You miss warm beds, you miss a stable job and your warm clean home but most importantly you miss them, you miss them like an amputated limb, like you can reach out and feel the muscles hanging loose, the veins burst and drooling where you hacked them off; it's easier to deal with when you remind yourself people like you don't deserve things like that.

You're just outside your hotel rooms door when some primal, animal instinct straightens your spine, something isn't right.

You look inside from the windows check inside, your measly possessions are all where they ought to be, just when you're about to close to door you see them.

Footsteps, on the snow, big, bigger than yours and deep, pure snow filthied by mud somone tried to cover them up but they're still there.

You can't tell if they're combat boots that John favoured or the hiking shoes Simon sweared by but it sets you off anyways, primal fear and anxiety, restlessness churning in your gut as you pack all of your belongings.

Same game, new rules.

<< Next Chapter / Next Chapter >>

#ghoap x reader #ghoap x male reader #cod x male reader #mercurial #cod x reader #john mactavish x male reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x male reader #simon x reader x johnny #tw poverty #tw implied abuse #tw violence

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blingblong55 · 10 months

Text

Science- 141 + Los Vaqueros

This is based on a request:

Im sorry if this is such a downer but im in a really bad place rn andi need something to cope but can I have Los Vaqueros + 141 seeing their best nurse crying because their parents called them a failure for dropping out a doctor and wasting money and now their nurse thinks she's useless. The extent of their sadness is to the point of a seriously bad mental breakdown

Angst?, some fluff, platonic relationship, F!Reader

It's just science Don't let it break you down

You had become the favourite nurse for all of the 141 and Los Vaqueros men. So much so that in any mission where they had to go to a new country, you'd have to go as well. They trusted you with anything and everything, no doctor or other medical staff could get through them like you did. The one man that trusted you the most was Ghost, before he took his mask off back in Mexico, you had already seen that face, hundreds of times.

141 and Los Vaqueros, are working together in a new assignment, you of course were told to go with them. But after the last mission, you found it hard to concentrate on much. Things were becoming more difficult, and best believe there was a reason for this.

You have been a nurse in the military for about 5 years now, the things you've learned in you field, the memories you have created and people you've met are something you thank you job for. But about a year into you working as a nurse, you started to look into becoming a doctor. Something you always dreamed of becoming, and to be honest, it was a job position your family saw you in. Once you go into medical school, the worst stress you had gone through, it took a year and a half of your life to quit that dream.

You only had told your family you were pursuing that dream and of course Laswell, who moved your schedule around so you could attend school. On a great day, well at the beginning, your family called you.

They had received the news you had quit med school, and best believe they kept yelling at you. The text messages were also no good,

Mum: how dare you!!!!

Mum: we worked hard to give you a good life and education and the only thing we asked was for you to become a doctor and you failed us!

Dad: You are such a disappointment

Dad: a literal disgrace to my family

For days on end, the calls and messages kept coming through. Every day you'd start with a headache, reading through their shit messages, crying before breakfast and acting as if you only slept so little. It was getting out of hand, you started to get more and more tired.

You questioned your role in the military, asking yourself if you were even good enough to help people. But, you could cope with all that, it was easy to do it. It had become so usual to feel these things and ask all of these questions to yourself, it no longer fazed you. You'd jog or run to get this energy out of you.

Until tonight.

Echo team had been sent to a mission, a terrible one. Everyone came back with at least one injury. Blood on the floor as a few soldiers were dragged into beds. Everyone was woken up, Delta and Charlie team were sent to finish the mission. But as you and the other medical personnel ran through the med-bay, helping anyone that required assistance, you had found yourself crying in some supply closet.

Soap and Rudy had heard about the hectic night all of the medical teams were going through and the first person they thought of was you. So, naturally for the two men, they wanted to show you how much they appreciated the job you were doing. They made you some rather warm coffee and your favourite, carrot cake, well more like fairy cake/cupcake.

For about 30 minutes, they went around med-bay, calling and asking for you. Most shrugged and jogged back to some other rooms, others pointed in different directions. And thats when they heard your cry. They knew the stressed you put into tonight, but they didn't quite understand it, so they called for backup.

The rest of 141 and Alejandro were all waiting for the right time to open that door. One single knock and they couldn't hear you, "Hey kid, its us...can we come in?"

You unlock the door, the second you see Price, your arms wrapped around him as you hugged him. You sobbed and mumbled some words he couldn't quite make out. His hands patting and rubbing your back. Your sobs becoming louder as he whispers, "It's okay, kiddo. Let it out, we're here."

The other men just stayed quiet and stared. Mental breakdowns were normal in the military, the stress and pressure you are put through is beyond what civilians can go through. So, in some sad way, they all understood. Slowly, priced took you by the hand and guided you out of the closet in which you had spent at least an hour crying and laughing at yourself at.

Once they reached their part of base and into the common room, you stay there, arms crossed, a pillow being held.

"Lass," Soap said in a soft and gentle voice as he was the first to break the silence, "can I ask, what caused this?" He always cared so much for you, after all, you had become his best girl, and the only person to tolerate his banter.

"I....I think...no, I know I don't belong here."

"Belong where?" Alejandro asks.

"Here."

Ghost chuckles, he sits down and pats your leg, "I don't belong here, Soap, Gaz, and sure as hell Rudy doesn't either," he sighs and pauses, his finger at your chin as he makes you look at him, his other hand caressing your cheek and wiping your tears, "and my beloved, I know you don't belong here too." His voice carrying sincerity.

"Price and I, we may have our years of experience, but," Alejandro sits next to you, "sometimes things get hard, it happens."

"We can only take so much before we break, my dear." Gaz sits across from you.

"What caused this?" Rudy asked,

You sigh and look at the pillow, playing with the edges of it before answering, "a...a while ago I decided to become doctor," you paused before feeling like you were disappointing them, "I only lasted a year and a half in med school."

Price understood, in a way, why you had that mental breakdown.

"Y'know, I didn't become captain so easily."

"I failed a test and re took it well over 13 times before they made me colonel." Alejandro confesses

"And he made me the subject of that frustration." Rudy laughed a little.

"It was yer parents, wasn't it, lass" Soap spoke up, he and Gaz knew the story.

You, overworking yourself to make them proud, although that never came around. The word "proud", was never said to you, thats why you over accomplish things and thats why you are here in a couch, crying and being comforted by the men you have grown to call a family.

You look at soap, ghost's hand still rubbing your cheek as he wipes the tears away. "Yes."

Soap gets up and goes to you, kneeling in front of you as he looked you in the eyes, "You were born into a family that doesn't always appreciate you. But one day things are going to be very different."

He stood up, held your hand and gestured for the others to follow his lead, "c'mere, my bonnie." He kissed your forehead and hugged you, the other men doing the same.

At least 30 seconds after they gave into this group hug, gaz spoke first, "I don't mean to say this in a bad way, but...I think she gets it, hug over."

You chuckled and they pulled away, Price and soap stayed though.

"We love you kiddo, your place in this team is the most valuable." Price kissed your cheek and pulled away, not Soap, this was his excuse to show you his appreciation for you.

"We love ya so so much, but I do love ya more," he kissed your forehead once more before looking into your eyes, "my very best gal." He winks and wink back, something you two have been doing after each moment like this, although this time, the other witnessed it.

it's just science Don't let it scare you now

-----

A/N: Yes, I did use that Matilda quote...shut it..anyways..love ya<3

Tags: @anonymuslydumb (love ya, pookie bear<33333)

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2dmenenthusiast · 1 year

Text

"You gonna make me?"

(John Price x Gn!Reader)

Jesus christ I've never finished a fic faster in my life. I'm absolutely feral for this man istg. Also, I 100% don't know shit about sparring or the military. Thank you

Feedback and Reblogs are encouraged and appreciated! <3

Summary: You made a mistake on the field, and your teammate got shot because of it. Safe to say, your Captain is less than happy.

Reader's callsign is Sting

Words: 3.6k

Warnings/Other info: references to injury, blood mentions, lots of fuckin guilt, this is smut free besties, just my mediocre attempt at writing fluff, reader is gender nuetral

The phrase “seeing red” couldn’t begin to describe the white hot rage that seared up your spine and wrapped tight around your neck like a noose. You just got back from a meeting with your Captain, and he had reemed into you like you wouldn’t believe. It was a bad call in the field, completely your fault. Soap got a bullet in the arm because of it, and you couldn’t stop beating yourself up over it. And while your anger directed at yourself was enough to have your fists clenched so tightly that you left crescent shapes in your palms, the reprimanding you got from Price left you vibrating with rage. You were ready to lash out like a cornered, rabid dog, biting at the hand of anyone who reached out. Which is why you found yourself in the training room on base, throwing jabs at the punching bag like it just insulted your mother.

The stinging of your knuckles through your wraps should've been a signal for you to stop and take a rest, but the screaming thoughts in your brain had you persisting, the solid, repetitive thump of skin meeting leather echoing throughout the empty room.

“Woof, remind me not to piss you off.”

You huffed out a breath, movements finally coming to a stop as you rested your palms against the bag. Sweat trickled down your forehead, chest rapidly falling and rising with each chased breath, and Gaz stopped a few feet away from you. A grey muscle tee sat loose on his torso, paired with black gym shorts. You quickly assumed he was here for the same reason you were, and while you had no reason to be mad with him, you couldn’t help but feel frustrated by his presence. You just wanted to be left alone with your thoughts for a few hours, take a long shower, and then go to bed.

“You wanna go a few rounds?”

You raised a brow, fist resting against your hip. “You sure?”

Gaz shrugged. “You look like you need it.”

You let out a humorless chuckle, clapping Gaz on the shoulder as you passed him. Okay, maybe the company didn’t sound so bad anymore. You quickly adjusted your wraps and shifted your neck, feeling the muscles tense and pull. “Just don’t go easy on me, alright?”

Gaz gave you that dazzling white smile, one that would have people stopping in their tracks, but it vanished as soon as it appeared once he came at you. Gaz was young, spry, his speed certainly giving him an upper hand compared to his big and burly comrades. He was light on his feet, easily stepping back when your fist swung out, and he was in your space the next second, hand pushing against the center of your chest and his foot sweeping your ankle. You landed on your back with a thud, the mat breaking most of your fall, and Gaz clapped his hands together.

“Alright, keep gloating Kyle,” you chuckled, grasping his hand when he went to help you up.

“I’m just lucky to catch you off your guard.”

You huffed, lips tilting up in a bitter smile and rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, seems like that’s been happening a lot today.”

Gaz’s expression immediately dropped, and he shook his head. “No, hey— I didn’t mean it like that—”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. Let’s go again.”

You were relieved when he lunged at you without question, and you both moved around one another in a less than graceful dance. Gaz always had your back. Whether it be in the field or on base, he knew what you needed from him, and he was more than willing to let you throw him around a bit to get some of your frustration out.

And maybe you haven’t thought about it much before now, but you were grateful to consider Kyle a close friend.

Punches were thrown and blocked, and he actually got you pretty good in your side, the sudden force and the sting afterwards sending a rush through you. By the time he was spent, sweat dripping down his forehead and his limbs feeling the slightest bit of fatigue, you were on your back with his back pressed against your front, arms wrapped around his neck and legs trapping his hips. He struggled to get out of your hold, gripping your forearms and attempting to pull them away, but then there was a loud squeak of the doors opening, and you both paused as your Captain came sauntering in the room.

“That’s enough. Let him go.”

The deep timbre of his voice made a feeling you couldn’t quite place surge through you. It settled deep in your bones like sweet, thick syrup, and the look he pinned you with set your skin ablaze.

Trembling limbs fell to the ground as you released Gaz, and he stood with a huff and quickly helped you up. His hand clapped against your back in a reassuring manner, his way of trying to cheer you up from the impending doom you were about to face, and he jogged over to Price. They muttered hushed words, shooting quick glances your way. The sight made anger flare up inside of you. What were they talking about? Was it about you? Was it about your royal fuck up today?

An unintentional growl resounded in your throat, and you began picking at your wraps, the sweat collecting under the fabric making your skin itch. It was only now that you finally took notice of the blood seeping through the cloth, and the sight took your mind back to the field. The shouting. Echoed gunfire. Soap’s blood pooling under your hands and seeping through your fingers as you desperately called for Evac.

“You’re gonna be fine. We're gonna get you outta here, okay?”

It should’ve been you.

A low whistle drew your attention, head snapping up to watch Price as he sauntered towards you. Gaz gave you an anxious smile and a thumbs up from behind him, and you frantically shook your head with widened eyes.

Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go—!

He left.

Dammit!

With a deep sigh, you avoided looking at your superior and walked over to your duffel resting on the bench, rummaging through it to find your water bottle. As soon as the water hit your dry tongue, you desperately took deep gulps of it, some of it spilling out the sides and sliding down your jaw. You finally looked at Price while you capped the flask, catching his gaze follow the water droplets that slid down your neck and under your shirt. You pretend like the sight doesn't shoot blistering heat through you and begin packing away your things.

“What do ya think you’re doing?”

“Leaving. What does it look like?”

If you were anyone else, you’d be scared to talk to him like this. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d reign your attitude in. But you weren’t about to roll over and show your belly, and a sick, masochistic part of you wanted him mad.

“No. You’re not done yet.”

You barked out a sharp, sarcastic laugh, tossing your things aside and whirling to face Price. He wore that same serious look on his face, eyebrows set deep and his gaze narrowed. You tried not to focus on the crows feet that danced around his eyes, because that’s not what’s important right now and you should be upset with him. Not admiring the little details on his face that you’ve secretly come to love. Or looking at the way his arms flexed when he crossed them over his chest.

“Who says?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I do.”

Closing the distance, you mimicked his stance. “You gonna make me?”

A smirk spread across his features, and if you had a death wish, you would’ve slapped it right off him.

“Oh, I’ll do more than that, sweetheart.”

The pet name sent tingles down your spine that you refused to acknowledge, replacing those fluttery feelings with the rage you felt bubbling up inside of you. At this point, he wanted you to hit him. And he couldn’t be upset with you if you followed through with it, right?

He gestured with his head. “On the mat, soldier.”

Letting out a disgruntled huff, you reluctantly did as he instructed, like an obedient little dog. He was your Captain, you were supposed to follow orders. But the idea of letting someone yank you around and instruct you like a marionette made your blood boil and the veins in your forehead pop. But another part of you knew deep down that if you really didn’t want this, Price wouldn’t make you. You were just too stubborn to acknowledge it at this moment.

Once you were a good few feet away from him, you got into proper stance, feet spread apart and firmly planted, your weight evenly distributed. He copied your position, nodding his head to let you know he was ready, and you began circling each other. It was a waiting game, the clock ticking down as you anxiously waited for one of you to strike first. And despite everything in you saying to let him come to you, your eagerness and impatience got the better of you.

You lunged first, fist flying towards him which he easily deflected. You hit his solid forearm instead of what you were aiming for, and the quick jab in the same spot Gaz hit earlier had you stepping back with a growl.

“What happened today?” he asked. No. Demanded.

Your jaw clenched tightly, teeth painfully grinding together as you came forward again. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

Price gripped your arm and yanked you forward, spinning you so your back was pressed flush against him, and his arm wrapped around your throat.

“You were impatient! You ignored a direct order, and it got your teammate a bullet in the process.”

With a strangled cry, you bent your knees and used your weight to push against Price, using the leverage to flip him over your back. He harshly landed on the mat with a pained grunt, and you scrambled to plant yourself on his chest, shins pressing down on his arms and your thighs framing his face. Of course, you’d imagined this scenario once or twice before in the privacy of your own room, but you didn’t picture it happening quite like this.

“So what do you want me to do? Go back in time and fix my mistake?! As much as I’d like to, I can’t!”

His hands came up to grip your thighs, pushing himself up off the mat and slamming you on your back, the air effectively leaving your lungs. His hands were on your hips the next second, flipping you on your stomach so fast that the room spun, and he had you pinned before you could even blink. There was a solid arm pressed harshly against your shoulder blades as Price straddled your hips, using practically all his weight to keep you down. You tried reaching back with your hand to grab ahold of something, anything, but he trapped it in his ironclad grip and pinned it beside your head.

A frustrated noise left you, slamming your fist into the mat as angry tears gathered under your eyes. You knew Price was trying to teach you a lesson, but couldn’t he understand that you’ve already screamed at yourself the exact same words he was throwing at you?!

He leaned down, and the scent of expensive cigars and gunpowder filled your senses. It was like he was slowly taking over every part of you, his touch and his smell seeping into your skin until all you could think about was him. Molten heat surged through you, settling deep in your belly and sending your pulse skyrocketing. You were sure if he placed his fingers just right, Price could feel your heart beating erratically in your wrist.

“You’re a good soldier, Sting. And you know it. Don’t make me regret putting you on my team.”

His gravelly voice was like thick smoke, sending you in a haze as you pressed your forehead to the mat and let your body relax underneath him. You hated to silently give up like this, but your body and your mind was tired. The only place you wanted to be more than underneath your Captain was in your bed.

“Whoa. Am I uh, interrupting somethin’?”

Head snapping up, you spotted Soap by the door, a grin slowly appearing on his face as he leaned against the wall. You were quick to spot the bandage wrapped around his shoulder, and Price lifted off you when you tapped the ground twice. You appeared at his side in less than a second, eyes zeroed in on his wound, and the guilt was eating at you all over again.

“God, Johnny. How are you feeling?”

He shrugged his uninjured shoulder. “Been better. Doctor thinks I’ll pull through.”

He was joking.

He… had a fucking bullet in him because of you, and he was standing here, smiling and joking with you.

Why?

Why wasn’t he angry? Why wasn’t he cursing and screaming at you? How could he even fucking stand to be around you right now?!

Your head gently shook back and forth, eyes cast towards the ground and your jaw clenching so hard it made your ears ring. “Soap… I’m so sorry. I—”

“Did you put the bullet in my arm?”

Your gaze lifted, his brow raised at you. “Well, I mean, no. But—”

“Then stop worryin’ your pretty head. I should be good for field duty soon enough.” You saw his gaze shift downwards, and his brows knitted in concern. “Though, I think you should be more concerned about yourself there, Sting. Jesus.”

You followed his line of sight and looked down at your hands, blood soaking through the wraps around your knuckles. Rough fingers wrapped around your wrist, gasping when Price suddenly lifted your hand up so he could inspect it. His eyes then landed on your face, and you shrunk under his disappointed stare.

“Bloody hell. Come on, let’s get you sorted out.”

Tugging your hand out of his hold, you gave Soap a tight-lipped smile and brushed past them. By the sound of heavy boots thumping against the floor, you figured Price followed after you.

“And where’d you think you’re going?”

You refused to stop, so bullheaded in that moment that he’d probably have to tackle you to get you quit. “The infirmary.”

You heard his footsteps stop, relief filling you for just a second as you thought he’d finally almost left you alone.

Almost

“Sergeant!” he barked.

His voice stilled you, back straightening like your spine was being pulled up by a string. Silence filled the space between you, and you were hyper aware of your breath filling and leaving your lungs, the sound of it almost too loud for your own ears. When you finally turned to face Price, his intense stare sent a chill through you, and your chest shuddered with an anxious breath when he held up his hand and curled his middle and index finger towards himself.

With one foot in front of the other, you slowly closed the distance between you two, a million little thoughts running rampant inside your head. Price either didn’t know how intimidating his presence was, or he knew all too well. Either way, the gaze he pinned you with pierced right through you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was able to read your mind.

Hopefully not. If he heard what you thought about him late at night—

Shut up!

Stopping just a few feet shy from him, you held his stare for a moment before he turned, gaze falling on his broad back. The way his muscles shifted and flexed under his tight shirt almost stopped you in your tracks, and you scolded yourself for acting like such a lovesick fool before obediently following after him.

Aren’t you supposed to be angry with him?!

Why? All he did was point out your mistake.

A mistake you’ve relived over and over again until you wanna blow your brains out.

When you made it to Price’s office, he opened the door and wordlessly gestured to one of the seats in the room while he rifled through his desk. You sat without complaint, hands gripping your knees and focusing on your bandages splotched with red. When he found his first-aid kit, Price grabbed another chair and slid it in front of yours. His knees gently knocked into yours when he sat down.

“Alright, lemme get a look at you.”

Your fingers flexed, and you lifted one of your hands to place it in his. He was gentle when he gripped the edge of the fabric and began unwrapping your hand, and the stark difference between now and how he was when you were sparring would’ve surprised you if you hadn’t seen this side of John before. He was gentle and kind when he could be, always making sure his team got a proper looking at after missions, scolding you when one of you stubbornly let a wound go untreated. He cared about you, no doubt. Anyone was a fool to think otherwise.

The wraps uncomfortably pulled at the skin around your knuckles, the blood making it stick, and you let out a hiss. Price didn’t pause or stop, and you were grateful for it. You didn’t want him to treat you as weak or take pity on you. Not when you didn’t deserve it. It was only when he was wiping the blood away that you finally spoke after a prolonged silence.

“It should’ve been me.”

Now that gave him pause. The wipe froze against your skin for a split second, and he let out a sigh through his nose as he tossed it into the bin before grabbing a new one.

“And why do you think that?”

You didn’t answer right away, searching around the room as if you’d find the answer residing in a hidden corner. You were ashamed. What if Soap got killed today? How could you live with yourself knowing that his death was your fault? Your hand shook against his, and Price carefully tightened his hold to steady it.

“It was my fault. I should’ve taken the bullet, not him.”

Once Price was done with your left hand, he moved on to the right, giving it the same treatment. He shook his head. “Awful things happen to good soldiers that don’t deserve it every day. You can’t control it.”

“But I—”

“But,” he sighed, thumb gently pressing into the back of your hand, “you need to listen to orders, Sergeant. You’re lucky the bastard didn’t nag ‘im in the head.”

You nodded. “I’ll make it right, Captain.”

Once he was done patching up your hands, you moved to stand, but his hold on your hand didn’t falter. Rather, his hand snuck up your arm and pulled you back down into your chair, his lips quirking up in a small smirk.

“I believe you’re forgettin’ something, darling.”

Your eyes narrowed, leaning an elbow against your knee. You tried to remain tough, but you could feel your resolve turning into mush the more you stared into Price’s eyes. “You still expect me to kiss you after all the shit you said to me today?”

His smirk only grew, and his eyes crinkled up around the edges.

Fuckin’ cute bastard.

“Do I have to order you, soldier?”

You scoffed, pulling your arm out of his grip before suddenly maneuvering onto his lap. His hands immediately found their home on your hips, giving them a possessive squeeze, and you rested your arms against his shoulders.

“I think you can save the powerplay act for later, John,” you muttered.

He mumbled a quiet “Yeah?” as he stared at your lips, the word devolving into a soft sigh once you leaned down and pressed them against his own. Arms wrapped around your waist and squeezed you to John’s chest, your nose gently knocking against his as he chased your lips every time you pulled away. You cupped his face in your hands, and the roughness of his beard tickled your skin.

Could be tickling somewhere else right about now—

Jesus christ, shut up.

Price was always deep and intense when he kissed you, trying to pour every bit of love he had for you in each one. It felt like he stole the breath right out of you, your thoughts swirling and your mind hazy. He knew exactly what to do to turn you into putty in his hands.

“Where is it?” he muttered against your lips, and you reluctantly pulled away with a gasp as you tried to catch your breath.

Reaching under your shirt, you tugged at the chain securely hidden underneath it and pulled it over your head, dropping it into John’s awaiting hand. He smiled, fiddling with the clasp before cool metal slid over your finger.

“You should wear it more.”

Your brows drew together. “I thought you didn’t want to tell anyone?”

“We don’t have to. I just like seein’ it on you.”

Your lips slowly split into a grin, and you looped your arms around your fiancé’s neck. His large hand gently ran up and down your back, sending pleasant chills down your spine. With the way he looked at you, you’d do just about anything for him.

“I’ll wear it all the time then.”

Tagged: @latinxs-himbos-and-cowboysys

#John price x reader #captain john price x reader #Price x reader #John Price imagine #John Price #Captain John Price #Price #Cod price #mw2 #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2 #cod john price #cod fanfic

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justatalkingface · 5 days

Text

The 'Great' MHA Read Along, Part Five (Chapters 22-44): The Mandatory Exploitive Tournament Arc

Been awhile, huh? Let's see if I can still pull this off. I'm warning you, this is probably going to have a bit of heft to it.

We start off people trying (and failing) to investigate Shigarki and the Villains and, first off, a couple of things. The whole, 'Quirk Registry' shit? Very X-Men. I'm... kinda mixed feelings on it. It makes sense for a government to try and keep track of this kind of shit, but at the same time it feels like a whole lot, you know? That said... the way the guy in the suit phrased it makes it seem like they only searched for 'Shigaraki/Disintegration' and 'Kurogiri/OP warping' pairings, which seems... dumb. Like, really dumb.

Are they.... are they not going to search for anyone with a similar Quirk? Because it sounds like there are other people with similar Quirks, so... what about them? Oh, this pale haired guy who mutters a lot about how horrible heroes are isn't named Shigaraki, so clearly this isn't the guy? Do some ground work or something, man, bloody hell.

*spits out drink*

Even All-Might thinks Shigaraki is a man-child, lol. Brutal. That said... Vlad goes, 'You mean he's just like a kid with a 'power' or something?!'

And I. My dude. You're just some guy with a power. It feels like some depersonalization of the 'villains' because, yeah, everyone in this story is, in fact, just some rando human, 99.9% of the time with super powers. I don't know, it just feels like that's this really concerning perspective for someone in authority to have.

'I keep forgetting this is an actual school!'

That. That's... actually really concerning? Everyone, literally everyone, from Aizawa, to the students, to the actual author, can't seem to figure out if UA is some military academy meant to pump out child soldiers, or an actual high school meant to prepare children to go into society. And not to belabor the point here, one I've talking about on and off again for awhile, but that's fucked up.

I can't help but get the impression that UA (and presumably every other hero academy) is some military complex, setting up the students to live a life where the only way they know how to live is through violence and trying to be famous, but it's just... pretending to have standards, pretending to care for the kids as anything more than the next generation of... idol-police, or something. The way every school related thing is so out of place, the way their grades are so unimportant... it's very telling.

And like. It's not a bad thing, per say. Morally bad, sure, but from a story telling perspective? For a story like this, the way the heroic's school is morally dubious is actually a really good plot point to work off of. But... that's the problem. It never happens.

If the setting was fucked up enough, it'd be understandable if it wasn't explored, but it's not. I feel like there's some fertile ground to talk about... how heroes don't know how to handle living normal lives. How to cook, clean, do taxes, hIstory (which is, of course, very loaded sort of topic in a more dystopian kind of a set up) and so on. There's no way they have the time and energy to do all the thing a normal kid should do at their age, and as they grow up, and get these dangerous, fucked up jobs? There has to be consequences to that.

And the next line later, they bring up, you know, a bunch of terrorists just attacked the school. Which is, in fact, a serious fucking concern! What does Aizawa say?

'No no, we're only doing because we're so sure we have this shit locked down.'

Spoiler alert: They did not, in fact, have this shit locked down. In the least.

My god, this is so fucked up. It's pretty clear that the fact this is still happening is because UA, and heroics as a whole, honestly, is doing a show of force to try and make all the bad things go away. In all honesty, they're putting these kids lives at risk; the only reason nothing went wrong isn't because 'the school had all its ducks in a row when it comes to crisis control' or what the fuck ever, but because AFO didn't want to do anything. And you know why he doesn't interfere?

Because it's so damn useful for him that they flat out broadcast the details of the students and what their Quirks are!

And don't even get me started on this 'Olympics have fallen out of favor' bullshit. It's a world wide event, and it doesn't matter if the population has... shrunk (? That's what my translation says, anyways. Is this honestly saying that so many people died that the Olympics no longer holds any attraction? I mean.. what? What the fuck? What happened???? Why in the hell is this getting brushed over?! Or is that just a bad translation, and if so what is he saying is the reason the Olympics no longer have any appeal?) or whatever, because that's just... bullshit. That's just bullshit. If super powers happen, and they get at all stabilized and regulated like they are in here, all that's going to happen is that the powers are going to be part of the Olympics, and a lower population count really isn't going to change the fundamental reasons why it's popular in the first place.

Speedster racing, various forms of competitive flying (racing (in all its variations), acrobatics, mid-air dancing, synchronized flying.... flight along has dozens of potential new Olympics sports, easy), something like shot-put hurling but with some kind of projectiles, fire, lasers, whatever? Oh yeah, the Olympics are going to be just fine.

So please, Hori, spare me your obsessive need to make heroics the most important thing EVAH all of the time.

But, wait, there's more! It's not just, the new super Olympics, oh no, this is for their careers. In high school. This is, apparenlty, a make or break moment for the rest of their lives (again, with however that undefined heroics ranking and what not works). How old are they? What, fifteen? 'Here, go do bloodsports, and if you fuck up, you're going to be a menial, loser fry-cook of a wannabe police officer, dressed in brightly colored spandex for the rest of your life, barely making any money, and never getting any real respect or validation for putting your life at risk'.

Oh, I have opinions on the Sports Festival, believe me, I have a lot of opinions, but I'd like to save at least some of these more for when the actual Sports Festival starts, and not, like, five pages into the first chapter out of what, twenty two? We've got the time.

Uraraka! You're an actual character! My, this is nostalgic. I always loved the contrast between her hyper cute-zied design of her and the fact she's down to beat the living shit out of someone at the drop of a hat, and it's nice to have that again.

(Also, she's showing more ability to inspire the class here than Bakugou has shown literally the entire series, no matter how much Hori goes on about his 'charisma' or whatever.)

And then we get into her "impure" motivations to be a hero, (which I've also talked about on occasion), and it's very humanizing, both for Uraraka as a character, and the industry as a whole. It's one of those great set ups Hori ended up dropping on world building, which sucks because it'd be so interesting if he got into the nuts and bolts of the world a bit. I'm not saying we need to see the tax code or anything, but for a series that's about corruption and what not, some more detail would really help pull all of this together.

Ah, Dumb Might. I didn't miss you, except I kind of did because Dumb Might is still better than Useless-Side-Character Might.

Also, can I talk about how stupid it is that Dumb Might is burning his less than an hour's worth of time 'teaching' students again? Because holy fuck that's such a waste it's honestly criminal.

And what the hell is this switch in motivations, here? All Might never mentioned, you know, replacing him is the Symbol of Peace before now. Before this point, the whole reason he chose Izuku is that he'd be worthy user of his power, not, what, replacing him. If Izuku never gained any real fame, but still managed to save a lot of people? Before-this-point All Might would have been fine with that. More than that, he would have been proud of it, proud his successor was humble and chose to focus on doing good rather than fame. Hell, not too long ago it was pointing out by All Might that Izuku wouldn't want to use All Might's fame to benefit himself, to go slow and steady and earn his success rather than relying on fame.

Where the fuck did this come from? What the fuck kind of pressure is he trying to put on this kid?

And then right after that, we see flashes of who All Might used to be with the whole 'don't forget how you felt at the seaside park, that day', bit. Because, like, that's good. That's great! It's real, and deep, and gritty, and I'd love it if it wasn't being use with this set up, because those expectations work in other shonens, but they don't work here. Izuku can't do what All Might did, because he can't stop damn hurting himself. Going Plus Ultra, here, now, for this? It could cause real, serious harm to him for the rest of his life! And for what? To make a good impression?

And if something would call him on that, it could still work, because All Might is canonly shit at taking care of himself, that could, like, close the circle for all of this, bring it together with the two them as shit at at self care as a place to build them improving off of, but for whatever reason, Hori never went all the way on that because he was too damn afraid to commit to it, commit to a story, commit to a theme, commit to a moral.

...Holy shit, how many pages is this? We haven't even gotten to actual Sports Festival yet in the post about the damn Sports Festival.

And now we have this creepy, kind of morbid mob of people filling the hallway to stare at Class 1-A for.... being attacked by terrorists.

*what the fuck.jpeg*

What is wrong with you people?! What the actual hell is wrong with you???

And then Shinso rolls up:

"Wow. Look at these arrogant assholes, so excited about not getting killed. I'm going to declare war on them, because they deserve it for getting all high and mighty."

...

You know, I completely forgot about the epic story of, 'Shinso Hitoshi and his Completely Unmerited Persecution Complex'. I'm sad that I remember that now.

Bakugou: "People's opinions don't matter once your at the top."

Me: *looks at how much people's opinions matter to getting to the top, and staying there*

Me: ...Uh.

Thank you, Kaminari, for pointing out his edgy bullshit is, in fact, actually bullshit, and is only going to make his life more difficult for no reason. I like you as an actual person who does things other than cheerlead for Bakugou.

Izuku. Izuku no, Izuku...! Damn it. Bad Izuku. Bad! Stop getting inspired by the festering waste spewing out of Bakugou's mouth!

Cue all of two panels of the media being absolute assholes only out to make ratings with no redeeming features.

And... here's the actual Sports Festival, god knows how long into this post later!

(if you believe the text editor I just posted all of this into? Well into four pages. ...Even with my generous use of spacing, I think I have a problem.)

..Wait. Wait. Where the hell is this happening?

*does five seconds of research on the wiki*

I'm right. They have a stadium for this. Like, a giant ass sports stadium that exists for this. Only for this. That is used once a year.

At this point, I'm honestly wondering why UA isn't just it's own city. Like, Izuku should have moved here, along with the rest of the students, and all the families and various staff needed to run this just.... live on site. It's not like it'd cost them anything, since they apparently have spare cities sitting around for the kids to trash.

That's... that's actually a really interesting idea? Because it'd be a hero run city, then, which feels like it'd work well into the over commercialized, corrupted state heroics is supposed to be like, their overwhelming level of influence. I don't think that's what Hori was going for, to be clear, I think he has no idea just how much space he's causally put on UA's campus and didn't think through the implications... at all.

Ooh, and here comes Todoroki's characterization.

And... here comes the bloodsport, because that's what all of this is: bloodsport. They're throwing a bunch of teenagers onto this stage, broadcast them to the entire country, and have them fight against each other for fame. This society is so fucked up.

Random Gen Ed kid: Yeah, he placed first in the Heroics Entance Exam.

...Yeah. As fucking stupid as it is that Bakugou somehow placed first, it does make sense the person who place first in the Heroics Entrance Exam would be class representative in a school for heroics. Damn, you're salty, kid, but you're also kinda dumb, not going to lie.

Bakugou: *opens his mouth on live TV*

Bakugou: *vomits diarrhea for the entire country to see*

Izuku: ...Wow, Bakugou's so cool! He's grown up and mature now!

...Izuku. Izuku, buddy, please, stop doing this to yourself.

As yet another thing I've mentioned before, a lot of our views on Bakugou comes from Izuku. Izuku who has, from chapter one, all but worshipped Bakugou. Even when he does things wrong, even when he's actively fighting against him, Izuku can't stop himself from going on and on about how great Bakugou is, how cool and tough and determined he is. Izuku's hero worship of his abuser is sheltering Bakugou's actions from the readers, papering over all of his worst traits with a a transparent facade that he's this glorious figure. It's the narrative going the extra mile to cover his arrogant ass, to make him seem like a rival instead of an bully, someone worthy of respect rather than contempt.

Hmm. I don't want to go too much into the nuts and bolts of the event, I think, since I've done that before, so let's try something else: How Many Times Could This Kill A Literal Child? Where I, you guessed it, count how many times a teenager could have been killed, on national television, in this event.

Count one: The start of the race itself, where... *counts how many kids are in 1-A, multiplies by eleven*... two hundred and twenty kids run forward at the same time, trying to force themselves through the same opening. This shit is why it's illegal to shout fire in a theater, because a stampede like this could get someone trampled to death, or maybe crushed by the sheer weight of the crowd (which is something that happens, someone getting killed by the a crowd of unruly people just... squeezing them on accident).

*stares at Shinso being carried around like a wannabe king instead of using his own damn legs judgingly*

Count Two: Mineta gets bitched slapped by a robotic arm bigger than he is. I don't think I have to get into how that could be fatal.

Count Three: The army of Zero Pointers who could easily step on someone.

*Momo wondering about how UA can fund this makes me feel very validated, BTW*

Count Four: Todoroki dumping the Zero Pointer on the rest of the competition to block the way, again for obvious reasons. He obviously doesn't meant to, but this kid isn't even looking back. This is both lamp shaded and then dismissed because it happens to the only two people who could shrug that off, but holy shit that could have killed so many of them.

...The cameras are robots. The cameras are robots with AIs that are cheering on the other robots. I- I can't- what?!?

And then everyone can't stop themselves from praising Bakugou for the radical idea of going over a problem instead of blasting through it. Wow, Bakugou. Amazing. Such brains, such smarts.

Count Five: The Fall. Because there's no way that anyone could get themselves killed by. You know. Falling. If I was more generous, I'd say something like, 'There's probably something down there to catch them if they fall', but I'm not terribly impressed by UA's ability to actually keep these kids safe, so that doesn't make me think they'd have thought that through that much.

Grudgingly, I'm going to give a landmines a pass, because they're explicitly supposed to be non-lethal, and them blowing up didn't do any real damage. Burns, maybe, possibly a broken limb, probably some scars, but this count is about people dying. Izuku's pile could have been, maybe, but that's a level of deliberate action on his part big enough that I can't really blame UA, per say.

Eraserhead, on how 1-A has improved: I didn't do anything.

...Well. At least he's honest.

One other thing: I've said before how bullshit All Might telling Izuku to 'fight to win' was, and right here, here's the proof: All Might explicitly going, "I was afraid you'd be too nice to try and beat other people in competitions, but you proved me wrong! I'm so proud!". You know, fighting to win. Like he later says Izuku doesn't for some mysterious reason *cough*, to make him seem at the same level as Bakugou, *cough*. Poor, poor All Might, yet another victim of Bakugou's narrative warping favoritism.

And here we see the management kids going all out in how to sell Izuku and his brand, which is so very fucked up, for them and the people they're 'selling'. I'm aware this is something that celebrities go through, (which is fucked up for them as well, don't get me wrong; I'm an equal opportunity 'this is fucked up' call out-er), but these kids are in high school. The fact that they're doing this, and getting this done to them, in such numbers, in such an early age... yeah. There's no way this could give them lots and lots of long term stress and psychological problems, right?

Meanwhile, as we get to the offical rankings, I think it's time go back over the 'How Many Times Could This Kill A Literal Child?' count... at five. Five times they could have been killed on complete accident.

That is not a good score.

I'm stopping it here because the other events don't have the same problem, but instead of a whole new problem of delibrately pitting them against each other. On live TV. With minimal supervison. Cementoss popping in at the last second in Izuku vs Todoroki, considering how badly Izuku got hurt in the process, does not fill me with a great sense of these fights being well monitored.

*gets an omake chapter*

*Bakugou gets called Izuku's childhood 'friend'. Bitch, please.*

So. Here's a new point: the million point bullshit is... well. Bullshit. It's the snitch in Quiddich all over again, giving the hero something both super import, with an extra layer of difficulty, to drive up the stress and stakes, only kicked up by a million. Making more than the others makes sense, and making it enough to pass by itself is still pretty reasonable, but making it so excessively much has no point other making Izuku feel isolated from his peers and hunted by his classmates.

Also, Mt Lady going on about how 'great' an exercise the second round is is missing the point that this is literally a thing Japanese kids do in school. Literally, this is a game they're playing with Quirks, not some tactical exercise; it's like saying that playing hide and seek makes you great at hunting people down or something. Again, Hori, dial back your constant need to tell us how great the Sports Festival is. Because it isn't. It really, really isn't.

More doses of everything drooling over how great Bakugou is, and how much of a total shit of a human being he is, joy. Mineta and Shouji's teamup is actually pretty damn brilliant, even though it's tainted by how much of a one-dimensional character Mineta is. Iida is getting shown as Izuku's enemy, but honestly it looks more like he's just trying to improve himself more than anything, while acknowledging how competent Izuku is. Not just that he won the first round, or has a lot points but that Izuku, as a person, is the goal he wants to surpass; there's some good shit there, and pretty validating, if Izuku could allow himself to accept it.

Oh Mei! Mei... actually, I have a post I need to do about the Mei and Izuku dynamic at some point, how they're so designed to work together, but yeah she's fun.

And then Uraraka thinks about how strategic Izuku is being and again, I can't help but contrast this with how things happen later on; even if Izuku never lets himself really feel the respect people have for him, people at this point in time really, honestly seem to respect him, not for his Quirk, but for his brain, his determination, his heroism; it's so well setup for Izuku to stand on his own two feet without OFA and it's some really good stuff. It's a shame Hori gets rid of it.

Hmm. Class B. Class B is... interesting. They're set up as rivals but after this it never goes anywhere, and just leaves us with a bad impression of Monoma, without letting him get a good chance to get past it. I don't like him, honestly, his personality grates at me and he needs to get over himself, but he doesn't deserve the hate he gets from the fandom.

That said, though, the Class A vs Class B victory philosphy is honestly just another example of destroying yourself vs having realistic limits, how All Might and Izuku keep destroying themselves vs everyone else not doing that. The fact Class B is actually thinking ahead is smart, but the series doesn't give them that credit because it's not ambitious enough... even though that runs straight into conflicting with Izuku and his issues.

Hori, fucking commit already. In all honesty, it feels like 1-B should have won over Bakugou and knocked him out of the compition; they planned it out, and played him like a sucker, because he's a bullheaded moron. It's all right there, but right as they win... Eraserhead shows up in the booth and says, 'Yes, you've won, but actually no, because Bakugou need to win anyways. So he is. Because REASONS!' Then All Might gets dragged into that same bullshit just to make it really clear that no, Bakugou is right. Planning? Strategy? That's for losers. Real winners just need to want it hard enough, and no one wants things more than Bakugou!

It would have been better, as a story, and for everyone's character development, if that had happened. Bakugou would have lost to some 'nobodies', Izuku would have gone past him without even validating him with a fight, and Class B and Monoma would have gotten a better chance to show themselves as characters; win win win.

And then Endeavour shows up. Fuck Endeavour. Also that is a man who looks like a serial killer. Dumb Might continues to reign and be completely unable to recognize when someone hates him when he monologues about it right in front of him.

Meanwhile, Bakugou is just... there. For some reason. Why? Why does he need to be there for this? It makes his hissy fit later even worse when you realize he knows why Todoroki doesn't use his fire, and it has literally nothing to do with him. Ignoring him, though, Todoroki and Izuku's moment here is some good stuff, a nice setup for a healthy rivalry based on mutual respect, rather than the toxic mess he has with Bakugou.

Ugh. That cheerleader bullshit. Honestly, it says a lot that they can be told that, 'Aizawa says you need to dress up as cheerleaders', and apparently no one questions this, because of course Aizawa would pull some kind of weird bullshit on them with absolutely no warning at what anyone else would think is the worst possible time.

Midnight being really creepy about how she talks to teenagers, of course, and now... Shinso.

'Consent is for losers' Shinso. 'Everyone is coasting on their Quirks except for me, who only knows how to use my Quirk' Shinso. 'Let me use my Quirk on someone before we even get in the arena so I can blatantly cheat' Shinso. 'No one else has dreams or ambitions' Shinso.

I don't like Shinso. I like the idea of Shinso, sure, but that idea is another one of those paper thing veneers Hori likes to put on his characters, without doing the work to make that match the reality; the only hardship we've seen him go through is his apparent inability to work hard. Like, everyone loves Shinso, in story and out, they can't stop themselves from telling him how great his Quirk is. And you know what? It is. It is a great Quirk.

But Shinso talks like he's had a such a hard time with it, even though he seems to love it, love using it, and the way he acts, like he knows he can go through a career as a hero based only on that Quirk. He's wrong, since he's so out of shape he can't even run, apparently, but he's operating off that assumption at this point, which conflicts with his poor little martyr act.

I want you to look at the iceberg Todoroki makes, and compare it to his efforts against Stain. If he did that against him? That fight would have been over the minute he showed up, and Todoroki ambushed him. This is pretty much our last moments of Todoroki, certified badass, before the nerfs roll in. Savor it, Todoroki fans, because he'll never recover from having to lose against Bakugou.

Another omake, which seems like foreshadowing about Hori deals with women characters: bringing up a good characterization, or valid idea (do women heroes need sexiness to do their jobs?), before throwing it away to fall for the same tropes that he was making a stand against just a minute ago (women getting in a cat fight, which apparently gets really explicit, all of this on a TV before Mineta, Hori's avatar of his own horniness).

Then, as if to prove my point, we get Bakugou vs Uraraka where, like Class B before her, she does everything right, gets the win... and then gets it taken away at the last minute by idiotic bullshit pulled out of nowhere (since when could Bakugou make a blast like that? Why does he need those bomb gauntlets if he can do that?) because Bakugou isn't allowed to lose. And then Eraserhead, Hori's mouthpiece, shouts down the crowd, and us, when we think bad thoughts about it because that isn't allowed either; we need to love Bakugou.

Bakugou respects women! ...Just as much as he respects everyone else. That is to say, he doesn't. Hell, he doesn't respect her enough to think Uraraka planned her own fight! He just gets one line for one second that makes it seem like he respects her, but of course once that moments gone it's back to the normal level of complete disrespect. That's totally character growth right there, one second of acting different before returning right back to standard behavior.

So... Izuku vs Todoroki. I like the fight, it's very dramatic, very cool, but... stop to think about it a second, and about a minute in, Izuku's entire ass hand is broken. That is not OK. Why are they letting it go on? It's simultaneously a great fight, but a seemingly awkward implementation of Izuku having a Quirk, because so much of this arc is built off of him not using a Quirk, not having it. This fight only works with it, though. And it's cool, don't get me wrong, but it's shallow at the same time because of the Quirk, because Izuku has to go Plus Ultra, has to go past his limits. Instead of accepting a more reasonable win, he has to win, period, and he doesn't have the power for that.

There's this awkward conflict here between the story's various narratives, between Izuku needing to suffer, and struggle, and break himself, and his more grounded planning and actions, and you can see Hori's old, better planned out ideas getting replaced with newer, less thought out ones. It's honestly kind of a theme for this arc in it's own right.

Flaws aside, though, the fight is gripping, and it's a great setup for Todoroki, a great starting point in making him an important character, in giving him growth. Shame Hori ends up throwing all that away literally the next fight.

Well, before that happens, let's talk the one two punch of, 1, Izuku having done himself permanent, life long damage, which nobody thought to stop, and 2, the sheer, unmitigated clusterfuck of Recovery Girl going, 'I'm not going to treat wounds like these'.

So. If Izuku breaks anything... well. She's not going to treat that. I guess he has to walk around with a broken finger/hand/arm, without any medical attention whatsoever? Well. I certainly don't see any problems with that.

Then we get Bakugou, who canonly has problems using his Quirk for extended periods of time, outlasting someone by using his Quirk for extended periods of time, before going on to fight someone who uses cold, his canon weakness, and ignoring how it should completely neutralize his Quirk to overpower it, through what I can only call his sheer, narrative warping concentration of favoritism.

On what happens after he wins... I've seen people say that he doesn't mean to attack Todoroki, just try to wake him up, but looking at that scene: he's holding Todoroki's body up with one hand as if to shake him, sure, but it's the other hand that's the problem. The way he's holding it is, for his Quirk, an offensive pose, making it ready to attack his target. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt (against my own opinion) and say it's not proof positive that he was about to attack, but there's no getting around that Bakugou had himself perfectly set up to hit Todoroki, full blast, while he was unconscious. Even if it's the more innocent explanation, that feels like something that should have disqualified him because... that's really concerning. That feels a step away from him threatening victims he thinks should have stood up for themselves or something; it's not heroic, in the slightest. The fact they had to knock him out, presumably for Todoroki's own safety, says enough about how bad that is.

The fact that the ending comment is basiclly lamenting from his perspective, that this 'isn't what he wanted' is... certainly a choice. He won, but, gasp! The person with long held issues in using his full power that long predate him didn't use his full power! The poor baby!

Then we get to the award ceremony where they... chain him up? Why!? If the doesn't want the damn award, don't give it to him; they let those guys earlier give up when they felt they didn't deserve it, why is Bakugou different? It feels like it's Hori tying him up here, against Bakugou's own will, and characterization, to give him that win just so he can win, but also to forcefully set up Bakugou's own importance with the League later. It's ham handed. It's probably child abuse. It's stupid.

It's fucked up all the way down, is what I'm saying.

Then All Might shows up, and fucks up his entrance timing because he's not allowed to win anymore, of course, and then forces that medal on Bakugou.

Uuuugh.

Last couple of panels, though, are pretty nice: we build up Uraraka's character, get the next arc set up, set up Izuku (fucking finally) getting away to use his own damn power, and develop Todoroki a bit.

A nice little cherry on top of the shit sundae.

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