#cod gaz

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost, to Soap: You've got to stop texting me from your apple watch. "Bring queer". I assume you meant 'bring beer' but just in case I brought Gaz Gaz: I'm not gay? Ghost: You're not? I don't need you then. Leave

[witchthewriter]

Y/N: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve. Gaz: I think you mean cards. *Y/N, pulling knives out of their sleeves* Y/N: No, I do not.

[celestialwhoree]

whilst I'm hyperfixating on dolls, thinking about protective childhood best friend Gaz💕🎀

His feelings had started off strictly platonic, protective over the quiet girl next door, who barely spoke up in class, and was generally an outcast due to her being perceived as 'weird' for enjoying picking flowers as to playing sports, and trawling antique shops instead of partying.

As you'd grown up alongside each other, that sentiment had only strengthened. He still so vividly remembers the day he came home to you sat on his porch step, a broken doll, a Blythe that you'd spent hours customising with such love, broken to bits. He'd obviously done the rational thing - spent weeks working in his dad's garage to fix her up, getting his mum to help him sew her teeny tiny dress back up, even asking around the pharmacy for if they sold 'those stick on eyelashes', to the amusement of most of the Boots staff.

To this day, he credits your prompting, and his mums patience for his emergency suturing skills. And Blythe, of course.

He's since made a habit of contributing to your collection, somehow acquiring originals from the seventies still in their boxes, or buying customs that you're sure sell for copious amounts of money. He wasn't there to protect you and your precious doll once, so he'll be sure to make up for it every day since. There's no weirdness about it either. To him, it's cute.

However, when you'd started dating...

Of course, he still had no problem with the collection of little you's on various shelves throughout the house. Save for the bedroom Blythe, lingering on the dresser like some freaky, big headed little guardian angel, who he's convinced is sending him bad juju every time he tries to get nasty with you. Her creator. Mary Shelley type shit.

It becomes second nature for him to turn her around as soon as the two of you go stumbling into the bedroom.

And he begs you to put her in the closet when you go to sleep.

Turns out your SAS boyfriend who's been supporting your collection for years is fucking scared of dolls.

Kyle 'gaz' 'bad Blythe bruja' Garrick

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

‘‘This is Lieutenant Riley, Ghost’’

‘‘Lieutenant’’ She nodded, having to raise her head to look up at the mountain of a man towering over her, but didn’t look affronted by it. Her chin barely reached his shoulder.

‘‘Sergeant’’ Ghost nodded as well, shaking the hand she was offering, and almost raised an eyebrow when her shake was way stronger that he had expected. Her eyes were lighter in colour that he had expected as well, with a blue almost grey depending on the light.

From Chapter 1 of my fic Fortis Soli, Fortiores Una

Kudos to @mmyrrhh ❤️ for giving me the idea of illustrating the chapter I was trying to write. My brain had other ideas.

[vilixxr]

(non)commital

kyle x gn!reader

tags: fluff, bits of smut, marriage, that’s it. kyle is also endearingly annoying?

notes: marriage? no. with him? maybe.

wc: 962

You didn’t do the whole 'marriage' thing.

Well, you liked the idea of it. On the outside, looking in, it painted a nice picture: Eternal love, spoken out loud, in which death couldn't keep you apart. In theory.

It looked nice, pretty and pure, but you had sworn against it. You've seen how it ends, anyway. At some point, 'Eternal love' would sound more like chains you would tie to your wrists. Till death do you part, until you'd grow desperate to find the key midway through.

But, fuck, it was hard to keep promises between you and your heart. Especially when he was there.

This bastard. The one who had managed to worm through your own wall that you had set, now sitting in your stuffy kitchen. Your boyfriend, all calm and quiet, yet still holding that air of confidence that drove you wild. His lips were propped up in a dumb little smirk, almost a grin, as he caught you staring.

Kyle tilts his head, barely hides his amusement. "Somethin’ wrong?"

Absolutely.

It didn’t make sense to you. You've known Kyle for years. Years, and he’s always been the same man to you. A man who moves like he dreams. Constant, unstoppable, a man who soars and would never settle down, even if it killed him. Marriage was the furthest thing you'd find him doing. Probably.

Of course, though, you had to feel something anyway. All your heart, solely spent on him, the man that pissed you off. He just taunts you in ways that fit in the crevices of your heart, and he didn’t even know it. He makes your head spin, him and his perfection, drowns your mind in blooming photos of every single feature that made him the cunt that he is.

It had gotten so bad that you couldn't stop painting a picture of life beyond calling him your boyfriend. Wrath knows no bounds, and it's in the way you'd punch him at the altar for enlisting and leaving you. It's in the way you'd hiss in his ears all of your gripes that falter with the moan that leaves your lips mid sentence. It's in the way that you'd dedicate your energy to arguing over every little thing, even while the both of you went window shopping for a potential home.

You glance away. "No."

He smirks, like he knows. He's so getting punched at your wedding.

He slowly blinks, nonchalant. The slight sheen in his eyes are irreducible. "Has to be. You keep lookin' at me like I did somethin'."

The only thing that leaves your lips is a sigh that you hope doesn't tell him anything. You know it does anyway.

His expression barely changes, but you (unfortunately) can tell that there's something different. He looks at you, smirk stretched into a smile that shows top teeth, and his eyes shine in a way that makes you melt. It's such a look of love, where he tells you that you were the only one he really existed in his world. He may drop to his knees and bend to your will, just to see you smile. All that "hatred" you harbor, which he knows doesn't really exist, is something that he loves to shatter every time he tenderly takes you in his arms. Feel his heart pressed against yours.

And, you hate to admit it, but this is what made you soften. Your body slumps a little in your chair, but you kept your eyes on him. Those beautifully made eyes that glow in the sun, and seem to shine especially when it's you who's staring back at him.

Fuck. You'd punch him at the altar, you decided. Punch him, lightly, in the shoulder, because you couldn't dare to try and harm the man that's survived bullet wounds and bodies at his feet. You'd kiss him, because he deserves tenderness he was never given until now. You'd kiss him, again, just because. Again and again, and you'd beam at the sight of your husband.

The gripes would be nothing but insincere complaints. "I hate you," you'd breathe, but you wouldn't mean it. Your breath would hitch as he grips your thighs and kisses you in tandem with the pace set, while you follow with, "God, I love you."

And, while you may argue with him over the smallest things while choosing, you could still envision the home you'd live in with him, too. Small, cozy, some place that fits only you and him. Pillows placed so. Scattered remnants of hobbies and hoarded items left askew that encapsulate everything the both of you could ever be. Decorations, messes, love in every corner.

All that, and not just that. You'd find comfort, among the things that would make up your predetermined home. You could laugh, cry, ache, yell, rise and fall, all in the middle of the kitchen you imagined in your dreams, especially with him, wrapped around you and carrying you through it all. It was then that you'd find that something, as he cupped his hands around your face, and you did the same, cuddling among the walls of the only place the both of you could settle.

Something you've both yearned for, for a long, long time.

A home. One to reside in. One within each other.

So, marriage was something you swore off of, but it seems like the perfect time to ask him something. A murmur, so hesitant and unlike you.

It pairs well with the way your eyes dart around, before falling on him once more. You breathe, and the question leaves your lips:

“Would you marry me?”

And it was perfect, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle in an unspoken yes.

this fic beat my ass. kyle i’m sorry

stars + dots divider by cafekitsune

[vampyre-boyfriend]

Ghost:"So...is it an assassination or just a murder if I pushed this guy?"

Price:"You can't push a president off a building, lieutenant"

Price:"yet"

Gaz, horrified:"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YET????"

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

To the Edge of Chaos - Pirate!Gaz x Female Reader

After being accused of murder of a high ranking officer, Kyle flees his hometown with his friends in tow. They never look back on their lives as naval officers, instead they forge their future in new beginnings becoming the most renowned and feared crew across the seven seas.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[luvverslair]

I don't know if you write stuff like this but: Gaz coming home from deployment and reader is in bed because their depression has made it hard to stand up so they didn't cook or prepare anything and they feel super guilty and it's just comfort and fluff and Gaz is really sweet and reader comforts him too when he talks about the stuff that happened on deployment (the stuff he's allowed to say) and... something like that.

Totally cool if you don't want to/feel like it. Thank you!

hi !! sorry it took me so long to answer this ask, i think this is such a good idea and fits gaz sm !! thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy !!

TW: MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION UNDER CUT

Gaz's footsteps echoed through the hallway as he made his way into their shared home, dropping his bags and gear with a sense of relief. "Honey, I'm home!" he called out eagerly, expecting the usual rush of footsteps and warm embrace, but met with an unusual silence instead.

Confusion knitted his brows together as he ventured further into the house, his voice bouncing off the walls as he called out your name repeatedly. Each room seemed to hold its breath, until he finally reached the bedroom.

"Love, are you..." Gaz's words trailed off as he took in the sight before him. You were sprawled across the bed, looking worse for wear, makeup smudged, and his shirt draped over your frame. Concern flooded his features as he approached, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

"Hey there, lovie," he murmured softly, his fingers tracing circles on your back. "You alright?"

Startled, you shot up from your position, a flurry of apologies tumbling from your lips. Gaz reached out, steadying you with a reassuring touch. "Now, now, no need for all that," he said gently, his voice laced with understanding. "You don't need to worry about a thing."

Your eyes met his, gratitude shining through despite the fatigue etched into your features. "But I should've..."

Gaz shook his head, cutting off your protest with a tender smile. "Let's not dwell on that right now, love," he insisted. "How about we order some takeout and relax?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of his support easing your worries. "Thank you," you whispered softly, leaning into his embrace.

Gaz pressed a kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with love. "Always," he murmured, holding you close.

As the night went on, Gaz told you stories from his deployment, sharing snippets of his experiences. And as sleep finally claimed you both, tangled in each other's arms.

The following day you and him both deep cleaned your home, and afterward spent the day catching each other up and recent events and gossip. The day ended with you both sitting on your back patio just enjoying each other.

You knew it was gonna be okay, you knew no matter what He would always stand by your side no matter what.

[hauntedbubbles]

Price: You ah 👀 You doin' alright there, Sargeant?

Soap: He's dain' ma heid in, sir... Can we no jist... Ye know? 🧊🥶

Ghost: *on Comms* s'he doin' tha’ face again? 💀 Like a bulldog chewin' a wasp?💀

Gaz: 😅 A-firm

Soap: Fuck aff...bunch eh belters! 😠

Shepherd: Shouldn't we—

TF141: SHUT IT 🤬

Shepherd: 😐

[yooo-lets-go]

what would a drinking contest with the bois look like?

Unforgettable

[mindie-arts]

Fuck it *ponifies your military men✨*

This might be my new obsession-

[ramvur]

Soap is lucky he's pretty

also i rly rly wanted to draw some of my fav kortac guys :) yes ik kortac is a pmc and they dont have a colonel

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost, to Gaz, drunk out of his mind: Garrick thinks he knows everything but he has no idea I'm in love with Y/N Gaz: You're in love with Y/N? Ghost: Oops, sorry, my bad Ghost, leaning over to Y/N: Garrick thinks he knows everything but he has no idea I'm in love with Y/N Y/N: You're in love with me? Ghost: Ghost: Where the fuck is Johnny when I'm talking to him?

[rottenratking]

They're doing it again. Send help.

[reds-skull]

Christmas comic in October? It's more likely than you think.

Also I would die for young Kyle and Simon

[deadunderorbit]

minor MWIII spoilers

them all shushing Shepherd had me rolling God