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ghouljams · 10 months

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Let’s meet Birdie!! The last Darling on our Cowboy!141 docket, our Gemini queen and Goose’s Best Friend.

Gaz looks over the post-it note list Goose handed him before he walked out the door this morning. Her chicken scratch is almost as bad as Soap's and the use of angry faces isn't helping. Is this supposed to say corn meal or worm meal? That is a very high stakes difference. He needs a second opinion.

You bounce a fussy baby on your hip, staring down the large bags if bird seed on the middle shelf. Your class feeder is out, and apparently nobody sells anything that isn’t in bulk. Which you already knew, so youre not sure why you're surprised. "What do you think, Bug?" You ask the kiddo, they very helpfully grab your necklace to chew on. You sigh, alright, fair enough. That's what it's for you suppose. Might as well find someone to help you grab a bag. "Unless you want to carry it," You wiggle kiddo's arm, as if those pudgy little sausages could lift anything.

"'Scuse me," Kiddo babbles excitedly, as you turn towards the voice. You are absolutely stopped by his eyes, deep and beautifully brown, and his smile. He could almost believe in love at first sight. "Could I ask you something?" You never considered yourself the sort of girl that's a sucker for accents but maybe you should rethink that.

"Shoot," you tell him, bouncing Bug higher on your hip with a smile. He holds up a hot pink post-it. Probably a honey-do list. Dammit.

"Can you read any of this?" He asks, letting you take the list from between his fingers. You study it, the handwriting isn't that bad. At least for you, but you read a lot of very messy handwriting in your daily life.

"Looks like alphalfa, seed meal, de-wormer," you squint at the numbers, "you're not going to get any of this at these prices." He takes the list back from you and squints at it, before sighing.

"Dammit Goose."

"Goose?" You nod, that makes sense. If it's who you think it is then he'll be in trouble if he goes too far over budget.

"Alright, well, thanks for the heads up," he shakes his head and turns away.

"I could help," You say quickly, just to see him look at you again, "get you closer to budget, if you want. Me and Bug are pretty persuasive." You wave kiddo's hand and he smiles for you.

"Yeah, you are," he says, a little too soft before he clears his throat, "I mean, yeah, sure, yeah I'd appreciate it. If it's not a bother."

"No bother at all, I gotta find Murphy to grab a bag for me anyway."

"What do you need? I'll get it." He says, looking around you at the bags of birdseed. You point at the one you want and step back to make room for him as he grabs it. His biceps flex as he hauls the bag off the shelf, you wouldn't think it was heavy the way he holds it with one hand. You wonder how those hands would feel on you. "Good?" He asks and you nod quickly. Very good, he looks very good. You try to keep your eyes on his face and not his fitted tee.

Gaz watches you lean over the counter to haggle price, you don't even need to bat those pretty lashes before the man behind the counter is folding. You only needed one thing but you'd derailed your whole trip to help him. You must be some sort of angel. He's sure you have someone waiting on you, pretty thing like you. Plus the baby? Gaz looks down at the chubby little bugger you'd handed him, yep just as cute as you are, you're definitely taken.

He bounces the kid in his arms, showing them how to make hand signs with their stubby baby fingers. Each one makes the kid shriek and giggle, grabbing at his hand with full excitement. While Gaz doesn’t think it’s good practice to leave your kid with a stranger, he’s gotta admit this isn’t even the first baby he’s been handed today. The people in this town are friendly as hell. You’re friendly as hell. Although he hopes that’s because you like him, and not the southern charm.

You pat the counter with a grin, satisfied with the good will you've cashed in. You turn back to Gaz and give him a thumbs up as you walk over. "All good to go," you chirp, poking Bug's stomach to make them giggle. You're feeling pretty good about you haggling, you've still got it! It helps being a town favorite, all you had to do was mention your abysmal teaching salary and deals fell at your feet.

The way you smile at the baby in his arms makes Gaz feel some type of way. Too domestic. It sticks in his ribs when you direct that smile at him. Is he supposed to feel this many butterflies over just a smile? What is it with the Mrs’ in this town, all absolute stunners. "You're a lifesaver," he grins, handing the kiddo back to you.

"Anything for Goose's guy," you tell him, bouncing Bug on your hip to keep them from reaching to be back in Gaz's arms. He snorts, his shock and appall at your statement makes you a little embarrassed to have said anything.

"Goose is dating my mate,” He explains and you feel something squirm in your chest, hope maybe, “I’m single- Kyle.” He corrects himself quickly, “Kyle Garrick, I’m helping the Price’s out for the summer.” Your hands are full, so he shakes one of Bug’s grabby hands. You bite down a laugh.

“My friends call me Birdie,” You tell him, “Also single, if you were wondering.” His smile lights up the whole store, and you hide your smile behind Bug so you don’t look too taken by him.

“Can I help you out to your car?” Kyle asks, you nod and turn toward the exit, enjoying the way he rushes to follow you and smiles like he can’t stop.

#Cowboy!Gaz #Is Bug her kid? Haven't decided yet #they might be her sister's kid #Anyway hello Birdie hello Bug hello end of Gaz's single life #Hey did y'all know Gaz is like barely 6ft? I didn't #Was doing my standard profile research and was like damn king!#you're the short friend huh #he's not even short but still #he's surrounded by monsters #namely Ghost #x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader

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as-is-above-so-below · 1 year

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The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: mentions of violence and death (ofc), blood Next >>

John Price stood at a round table, leading the mission brief for the team’s upcoming operation. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz sat around the table in various positions. Soap with his boots kicked up onto the table, chair tilted back; Gaz leaned forward onto the table, his forearms on the surface; Ghost leaned back against his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Soap and Gaz wore their regulation tan t-shirts and camo pants, while Ghost was clad in a black long-sleeve and his standard skull balaclava.

“So if we’re stormin’ the building, we’re all accounted for,” Soap pointed out, clicking the pen between his fingers. “We need a sniper.”

“Called in a favor with a good friend, who should have been here–”

“Ten minutes ago,” a strong but mellow voice cut in as a figure turned through the doorway. “I know, sorry John. Got a bit caught up with my room assignment. Tried to put me on the other side of base.”

A woman came into view, offering her hand out to John. They firmly grasped each other’s forearms in a quick shake. Soap and Gaz both had only slightly surprised expressions. Not at the fact that their sniper was female; they’d worked with plenty of fierce women during their time in Task Force 141.

The fact that she did not look the part.

She wore a massively oversized black sweatshirt that brushed her thighs and dark blue skinny jeans, her hair loose down her back. Must’ve just got off a plane, Soap thought to himself, looking her up and down. Her stance showed her confidence, feet shoulder-width apart as she faced the team with a bright smile (one not often found in their field of work) and glowing skin. She wasn’t necessarily small, more average height, but her attire dwarfed her frame.

“Thank you for joining us, Captain,” Price nodded at her. “This is Freyja. American Special Forces, sniper, undercover ops. She’s been briefed and will be joining us temporarily for the op. She comes highly recommended and outranks all of you, so I’d suggest you be on your best behavior.”

The woman jabbed Price with her elbow, rolling her eyes, much to Soap’s surprise. He barely suppressed the laugh that bubbled in his chest, unable to help the small choking laugh that escaped. Ghost glared at him and he quickly piped down.

“Thanks, John, but I think I’ll be fine. Glad to be of use.”

“Happy to have you. Let me know if you need anything while you’re here. I’ll leave you to it, get acquainted. We leave at 0400 hours. We’ll be infiltrating in daylight; prepare accordingly.”

“Aye, Captain,” Soap nodded once and saluted him, setting his chair back down as he rose. He watched John pat her shoulder on his way out, sharing what seemed like a knowing look, before finally departing to his quarters. Interesting.

Soap was the first to cross the room, taking her hand in a firm grip. “Pleasure to meet you, Captain. Sergeant John Mactavish,” he introduced, shaking her hand. He noted her equally firm grip and the cool metal of a wedding band pressing into his palm. Her skin was calloused yet soft, not as rough as his own.

“Soap, right? Heard a lot about you.”

“Aye. Good things I hope?"

“Mostly.”

A boisterous laugh left him, so loud you’d think the room shook. Soap heard Gaz gag on his water before breaking into a choked wheeze. The other man approached, shaking her hand as well. “Kyle Garrick, call me Gaz.”

Her hands found their way into the pockets of her sweatshirt.

“So, Freyja… like the–?”

A gentle, airy giggle floated into his ears. What a lovely sound. “Yes, like the goddess. I know, my husband’s idea.”

Soap groaned, his head lolling back in faux agony as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You’re breakin’ my heart, lass. Was hopin’ ya didn’t have one’a those. He in the service?”

“He is, but you wouldn’t know him. Keeps a pretty low profile,” she shrugged, keeping her eyes on the two men in front of her.

”D’ya think I could take him?”

”Probably not.”

Neither Soap nor Gaz noticed the way Ghost’s mask twitched slightly, evidence of the smirk that pulled at his lips. But she knew his microexpressions like the back of her hand, even out of the corner of her eye. The Scot remembered Ghost’s presence suddenly and waved his hand in his direction. He hadn’t made any move to greet the newcomer and hadn’t spoken during the entire brief.

“Steamin’ Jesus, Ghost, you heard the man. Be nice to the lady!”

Ghost grunted, keeping his arms folded on his chest. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant.”

The two stared at each other, her brow quirked. As the seconds passed, the interaction became increasingly awkward for everyone else in the room. Even the thickest person on the planet could have sensed the tension. Unable to take the silence any longer, Gaz stepped in to attempt to relieve some tension. “You two worked together before?”

“You could say that,” Ghost stated as he rose from his chair. “A word, Freyja?”

Her tongue poked at the inside of her cheek and she squinted at him. It was almost comical, the height difference between the two. Typically, Soap would have made a snarky quip, if not for the vicious look in her eyes. He wouldn’t say it out loud to him, but the scowl rivaled his lieutenant‘s. Finally, she spoke, “Excuse us, gentlemen. I’ll see you in the morning. You know where to find me in the meantime.”

“G’night, Cap,” Soap nodded and moved to the side, allowing her to pass to the door. Ghost didn’t spare them another glance as he followed behind her. The two men stood silently until they heard a door slam shut up the hall. Soap snapped his gaze to Gaz and found him already looking with wide eyes.

“What was that about?”

Soap shrugged noncommittally. “Not a clue. Bad history? Ghost’s no’ exactly skilled in manners.” He went to head to his room when he noticed a military-issue duffel where Freyja had been standing, an American flag patch on the side. He bent down and slung it over his shoulder. “Left her stuff. I’m gonna drop it by ‘for hittin’ the hay. See ya in the mornin’.”

They went their separate ways, Gaz disappearing to the armory to stock up for the mission. Soap approached the only spare room in their wing and rapped his knuckles against the door. He waited for a few beats to no response and repeated the motion.

Nothing.

Soap’s brows furrowed when he heard what sounded like a muffled argument from the next door up, labeled “Lt. Riley”. Soap should have just left her duffel in front of her door and continued on his way to his bedroom, and gone to bed.

But no, he just had to snoop.

He crept toward the door, still holding the bag as he pressed his ear to the hollow wood. They clearly knew each other, but Ghost hadn’t seemed happy to see her. He felt a bit guilty spying on his lieutenant, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. He heard Ghost’s deep voice first.

“We had a deal. You’re supposed to be on leave, and Price knows that. I have half a mind to wring his fucking neck–”

“John didn’t ask me to be here, I volunteered–”

“Cut the shit, Y/N. I’m not daft. He has no place calling you in without asking me first.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Simon!”

Simon? Just how familiar were they with each other?

“Oh, I’m well aware. I just figured that when your husband asks you to stay home, you'd listen! How silly of me!”

So he knows her husband. Interesting.

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“You want to talk about fair? You went around my back to my Captain. I’d say anything’s fair play at this point.” Heavy boots crossed the floor. “This isn’t just about you anymore. You’re not my superior, you’re–”

Soap shuffled his feet, he realized too late how loud the noise was in the empty hallway, and the voices suddenly stopped. He knocked in an attempt to recover, quickly stepping back from the door before it opened. The woman appeared, now in a too-big band tee, her dog tags resting on her chest. “Hi, Johnny,” she greeted, her tone significantly warmer than it had been a moment ago.

He didn’t remember mentioning his preference for the name, but he couldn’t find a reason to comment on it then. “You, uh, left ya bag. Wanted to drop it off, figured you’d be here.”

“Oh, my bad. Thanks, I appreciate it.” He transferred her possessions to her. The bag that appeared standard when he carried it looked huge compared to her frame. The added weight did not phase her. “We have an early morning. I’m heading to bed.”

Ghost moved from his spot near the bed on the other side of the room. “Frey–”

She held a hand up, sending another chilling glare in his direction. Soap was impressed when Ghost didn’t even blink at the look. “Enough, Lieutenant. That’s an order.” He didn’t miss the eyes behind the skeleton glowering or how the fabric near his mouth shifted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he growled through clenched teeth.

She brushed by Soap, readjusting the bag on her shoulder as she stormed to her room, somehow gracefully maintaining her posture. Before he could turn back to question Ghost, the door swung shut in his face.

Real polite.

~*~

“Alpha-One, in position.”

“Copy that, one. Alpha-Two, in position.”

“Bravo?” Soap’s partner looked over his shoulder at the white light flashing at them in the distance. There was a muffled choking sound and a swallow, followed by a sniffle. “Freyja?”

“Sorry. Multiple armed guards. Two snipers at the east and west sides of the targets.” Her voice, while calm, sounded tired and a bit drained. As if she could sense the unspoken question, she came through their headsets again. “Little sick this morning. I’m fine.”

Ghost's jaw set and he rolled his shoulders, blinking a few times to focus. Soap noticed the motion and covered the mic on his headset. “You a’right, Lt.?” he asked, his voice concerned with his brows furrowed.

Ghost ignored him. “Can you get a visual inside?”

“Negative. Windows are blocked in both buildings. You’re going blind.”

“What’s the call, ma’am?” Gaz’s voice.

“This is Price’s op. I’m just here for support.”

“Ghost?” Price this time.

Ghost audibly sighed, his irritation at the situation clear. Soap wondered how bad their last encounter could have been for the usually collected man in front of him to be so disheveled. Soap looked over at the lieutenant, who had turned his attention back to the opening in the wall between them. “Bravo, hold your position. Understood?”

“Affirmative.”

“Alpha-One, move in on your target on my command.” Ghost clicked off his mic and slid the chamber back on his pistol, doing one final check.

Soap took the opportunity to follow up on his unanswered concern. “Ghost, you good? Seem tense. Something going on with the lass?”

“Shut up, Sergeant.” He reached up to click his headset back on. “Freyja cleared hot to engage.”

“Standby.” A beat passed, then another, until the suppressed shot of a sniper rifle rang through their headsets, followed by the bolt being pulled back and pushed forward. Another shot. “Clean hit. Snipers down.”

“Copy. Alpha-One, move in. Keep it quiet,” Ghost commanded, signaling Soap forward with a tilt of his head.

She watched Ghost and Soap move swiftly around structures and cars forward to their target. Her gaze periodically adjusted between them and Alpha-One, Gaz and Price. Soap’s accent was low in her ear. “Approaching target. Engaging two hostiles.”

The pair dispatched the guards with ease, the same as the other team up the road.

“Be advised, I have no eyes inside,” she reminded the group, surveying the surrounding area as both teams entered the building.

“Roger. Breaching.”

On their frequency, angry shouts and gunfire had her writing uncomfortably in her spot. She didn’t like not having a solid visual of her team; it made her feel helpless. The audio of the scene inside wasn’t helping her nerves (or nausea) much, either. The sniper was almost lost in her thoughts when she caught movement at the edge of her scope up the street.

Reinforcements.

“Ghost, engaging incoming hostiles. You might want to bug out,” she suggested, taking several shots at the armed men back-to-back. “Alpha-One, sound off.”

“Heard. Intel acquired,” Price acknowledged. “Clearing out.”

“Alpha-Two, how copy?”

The radio crackled once before Soap came through. “Copy, I’ve lost visual on Ghost. Got separated in the firefight,” he grunted, still firing shots inside the building. “‘M gonna have to squirt.”

Something wasn’t right. “Ghost, how copy?”

Silence.

“Lieutenant, what’s your status?”

Her skin crawled at the repeated silence. “Fuck.” She took a deep breath and pulled her knees underneath her body, her stomach suddenly stilling, nausea disappearing. “Abandoning post.” Her voice pierced through their radios with urgency. She abandoned her rifle and made her way down from her perch.

“Absolutely not. We’re converging at the meeting point now.” Price cursed under his breath as she brandished her sidearm and sprinted towards Ghost’s last location. “Stand down, Bravo, that’s an order!” The captain commanded, rough and authoritative.

“All due respect, Price, get bent.”

Price and Gaz watched helplessly as she disappeared into the structure, Soap approaching them from their flank. “The absolute balls on that one, aye?” he snickered, eyeballing Price. He didn’t even flinch, expression hard as steel as he rubbed his face. He hadn’t seen his captain that stressed in quite a while. Maybe not the time for jokes…

The blood-curdling screams Soap heard would scare any man straight. It sounded like a horror movie slaughterhouse over their comms, whether it was caused by Ghost or Freyja he didn’t know. He did know it was her voice that said Ghost’s name and assumed the distant, heated mumbling was Ghost. He must have lost his headset if they couldn’t hear him clearly, and what they were hearing was whatever her comms picked up. “Shut the fuck up and move. If you were fine, I wouldn’t be here, Lieutenant. You can thank me later,” she snapped, sounding eerily similar to a stereotypical angry wife. There’s no way she cleared out that entire convoy on her own…

Right?

Moments later, without any other gunfire, the pair emerged. Ghost was indeed missing his headset, while Freyja trudged in front of him, taking long steps to cross the street. Her helmet was gone, and her hair had come loose. Gun in one hand, a familiar black combat knife in the other, dripping blood. Strands of hair clung to her face, coated in dark red, along with her hands, bare arms, and vest. Soap’s eyes blew wide. “Steamin’ bloody Jesus, did she–?”

Price hummed and nodded beside him. In the same breath, she stumbled over to a car and gripped the door handle, dumping her stomach on the dusty road. Soap and Gaz moved to help, but Price stopped them with a single grunt. Ghost was immediately on her, expertly sweeping her hair into one hand as he pulled her earpiece out, cutting off their audio. One of her hands grabbed his vest for support while his other hand rested on her back.

“Well, that’s unusual,” Soap chimed, his head cocked to the side as he watched the display.

“Quit starin’ and load up. I doubt that’s the last of those reinforcements.” Price waved at them, catching Ghost’s attention and pointing to an approaching Heli, waving his hand in a “roll out” motion.

~*~

The ride back to base in the heli was one of the most awkward experiences of Soap’s life; not a word was spoken during the short trip. Ghost pulled a rag out of his vest and silently handed it to Freyja to wipe some blood from her face; she passed him the blade she had carried, and he finally placed its familiarity when Ghost tucked it into the empty holster at his hip. She looked utterly drained now that they were in close quarters. In another shocking moment, she rested her head on Ghost’s shoulder, and he didn’t move to shove her off.

What the fuck?

At the base, Ghost dropped her off at the medical bay before storming into the meeting room where the team had gathered to debrief. “You’re a dead man, Price,” he barked, finger jabbed at him as his skull plate skittered across the table when he threw it. “You fuckin’ knew–”

“Simon, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t “Simon” me. Sorry’s not gonna cut it, Captain! If she’s hurt–”

“I didn’t think she would compromise herself that easily.”

Ghost barked a dry, humorless laugh as he pointed in the general direction of the infirmary. “Of course, she’s bloody compromised! She’s my fuckin’ wife, you git!” he snarled, teeth viciously bared as he ripped off his mask.

“Hell’s fuckin’ bells…”

“Bloody hell…”

He was too angry (and, frankly, scared for his wife’s health) to acknowledge their audience. “This is exactly why I told you not to call her. I can’t focus if I’m worried about her safety right now. She’s supposed to be safe at home, resting, not running into a bloody warzone, for God’s sake!”

“She was told not to leave her post–”

“When has she ever obeyed a direct order?”

Silence fell over the group, Price effectively losing the argument. Neither Sergeant wanted to find themselves on the other end of Ghost’s rage. They had no envy for Price and dared not get between them. No envy at all. On the other hand, Soap had so many questions. Since where was Ghost married? When did he have the time for a wife? And an American at that? How long had he been keeping her a secret?

“Simon.”

Four heads whipped to the soft voice across the room, finding the woman of the hour standing in the doorway. A superficial cut on her forehead had been taped up, her face clear of blood. Soap and Gaz stared at her in disbelief, jaws dropped as they looked from her to Ghost and back again. She chuckled at their expressions but didn’t move to approach them. “Captain Riley. Lovely to meet you both, officially,” she reintroduced herself, a slight smirk on her lips. She finally met her husband’s gaze, her expression softened at his bare face, save for the black paint.

He curled two fingers at her, one arm crossed over his chest. “C’mere. Now,” he ordered her, though his tone had little bite to it.

Even only knowing the sniper for such little time, Soap was outright shocked at the display. Flabbergasted by her obedience when she immediately strode to the spot next to him, barely leaving any space between their chests. It didn’t seem like her. He was obviously wrong, considering what he’d just witnessed.

Ghost took a deep breath as he peered down at her, examining her visible skin for injuries. “I’m right pissed at you, love,” he muttered, allowing her to loop a finger in his belt loop.

She smiled up at him, her admiration clear now that the sergeants had been let in on the secret. “I know.”

“Don’t give me that look.” The man sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. He knew he couldn’t hold his ground with that smile of hers. He dropped a gloved hand to rest on her lower belly, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You alright?”

She placed her hand on top of his and bobbed her head. Her familiar glow from the night before had returned.

“I’d like an apology.”

“And I’d like a parade in my honor. Oh, and a good ol’ fashioned fu–”

“Oi, better watch that fuckin’ mouth of yours.”

“You love my mouth.”

“Tha’ I do. Just not right now, sweetheart.”

Soap couldn’t take it anymore. “Steamin’ blood Jesus L.t., are you…flirting?”

“Shamelessly,” she giggled, never once tearing her eyes away from the man towering over her.

Ghost rolled his eyes again, his other hand slipping into its home on the side of her neck. “You’re done. I mean it. And if you call her again, I walk,” he threatened, turning his head to address Price directly. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Ghost, she held her own just fine,” Soap interjected from his chair. “Hen took out an entire squad practically single-handedly, plus the convoy before she went in after ya. I don’t see the problem.”

Realization dawned on Gaz suddenly, forcing him to his feet again. “You’re pregnant,” he exclaimed, both in shock and awe. “That’s why you were feeling sick. And the big clothes. You’re on maternity leave."

The lack of response from John and Freyja and how Ghost studied Gaz said everything they needed to know.

“No wonder you’ve been downright crabbit with her! Can’t say I blame ye, ‘s too dangerous out there to be mucking about with a little one in there.” Soap rose to his feet too, smiling like a cheeseball, ready to ruthlessly tease him. “How’d you manage that, Ghost? A bangin’ wife and a baby?”

“I know it’s been a while for you, Sarge–”

“Aw, away n’ bile yer heid!” the Scot barked, dismissing his lieutenant with a wave.

“English, MacTavish.”

“Sorry, sir, let me translate…Go fuck yourself.”

“Much better.”

He moved on from Ghost, addressing Freyja now. “I’ve so many questions! How long ‘ave you been together?” Soap leaned against the round table in front of them, his hands dragging across the shaved portion of his head.

“How old am I?” Ghost asked in a low, teasing timber.

Her upper lip tugged upwards as her hand wavered, indicating an estimate. “Five years, give or take.”

“Five years?! Son of the god-damn-devil, Lt! You’ve had a secret wife for five years–” He cut himself off with a gasp, his volume dropping to a brash whisper. “Does he take the mask off when you—”

“Tha’ll do, Johnny.”

Her bubbly laugh filled the room, and she swatted his tactical vest with her palm. “Si, don’t be an ass,” she warned, raising a brow at him. “Oh, John! I have pictures for you!” The woman let go of her husband and dug out folded ultrasound photos from her zipped pocket. She, Price, and Gaz moved to another corner of the room, gushing over the snapshots of her latest appointment before flying out, leaving Soap and Ghost alone by the meeting table.

A mischievous grin overtook Soap’s face. “An American, eh, Lt.? And she outranks you?”

“Not another word, Sergeant.”

A long pause stretched between them, although not long enough for Ghost’s liking.

“So… Goddess of love, beauty, and war,” he inquired, raising an eyebrow at the Brit, who threw him a questioning side-eye. Soap hummed. “Fitting.”

Soap almost gawked at the smirk (borderline smile) that Ghost bore as he watched his wife animatedly pour over her photos. “I’m well aware.” Another moment passed between them before Ghost fully turned to the other man. “Johnny?”

“Yeah, Ghost?"

“Flirt with my wife again, I’ll knock your teeth in."

"Noted, sir."

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lovifie · 2 months

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Kyle "Gaz" Garrick always gets draw as the most level headed, more calm and more connected with his feelings. But in my experience, these kind of people always attract those that are more broken on their head (not talking about the 141, just funny it fits.)

Like, he just attract these people that love confrontation and it is always Gaz the one that has to deescalate the situation. Or people that when they notice they are in the wrong simply give him the cold shoulder or just straight up jumps to insult him, and at the end he still needs to apologise.

So yeah, he hasn't had the best experience with relationship. Until you, of course. He is completely smitten with you, delighted by how easy going you are, how easy it is to comunicate with you. But you are still human, and the dreading moment arrives, where you and Gaz get into an argument.

It was about something silly, like how he never cleans the water that splashes when he washes the dishes. You got home from work, took off your shoes and step into the puddle wetting your socks and it sent you into an emotional breakdown.

Gaz is expecting you to just insult him, he is ready, he is going to hate to hear you insult him, but he'll manage, you are worth it. But only then, you say:

"Kyle, I'm sorry but you are getting on my last fucking nerve right now. I had an absolute shit day, and it is not your fault it was. So I'm going upstairs, I'm getting a shower and I'm going to bed before I end up paying it with you."

And Gaz looks at you astonished, so used to people with an absolute lack of emotional intelligence and simple goes:

You don't make it pass him of course, because he grabs you, cupping your face. You look at him confused and he says: "I am going to fuck you so nicely, luv."

"Kyle, no, I'm pissed." You try to explain.

"I know, you can still be pissed when we are done. C'mon, c'mon. I have never been more in love with you, luv. I swear I have been waiting for you my whole life."

And just to be clear, you sock was not the only thing that got wet that day.

1. I know I am reusing the Donald duck photo, I'm sorry for the lack of originality, but it just encapsulates the vibes of the situation so good.

2. I just want to be clear, that I mainly think Gaz gets profiled as the most level headed, calmed and overall chill guy not because he is exceptionally any of them but because everyone else is just worse. I could go onto heavy detail, AND I'LL GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL. Just not today, but one of these days, I promise. Justice for Gaz, my man almost beat up the butcher when he was tied to a chair.

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @lunari0m

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #task force 141 #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz imagine #gaz smut #gaz fanfic #gaz #call of duty headcanons #call of duty imagine

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

Text

Requests Currently: Closed || All Works are F!Reader || Request Form

MASTERLISTS ➺

Call of Duty All Characters Masterlist

Call of Duty AU Masterlist

8k Reverse AU Event Masterlist - Ongoing

5k Celebration Drabbles Masterlist - Completed

MULTI-PART WORKS ➺

All Multi-Part Works Masterpost

RECENTLY UPLOADED ➺

Cat-Eyes

RA : Chapter XI

RA : Chapter X

CURRENTLY EDITING ➺

None

CURRENTLY WORKING ON ➺

"Moss, Bone, And A Falling Star" - Part I, II, III - Witch Hunter!Price AU

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick 8k Event Fic

CoV Two Chapters

TO BE WRITTEN/WAS REQUESTED ➺

"Vivamus, Moriendum Est" - Part I, II, III - Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Reincarnation AU

I Pick My Poison - Simon 'Ghost' Riley Interrogation Fic

A Church at the End of the World - Gary 'Roach' Sanderson Zombie AU Fic

HEADER: "The Mirror" by Frank Dicksee

PROFILE ICON: "Portrait of Barbara of Portugal" by Jean Ranc

NAVIGATION BACKGROUND: "Selene Thrown Down by Argus" by Ferdinand Keller

QUOTE: "...to Northern perils, thou and I." J.R.R. Tolkien, Beren and Lúthien

MISC:

Pinterest Account

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I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform/A.I. program.

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sky-is-the-limit · 7 months

Text

"It's what friends do."

P:F!Reader x Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

CW: Afab Reader,Infedelity,

NSFW,Oral(recieving)

Song Rec: Friends by Chase Atlantic

WC: 2,560 words

Notes: @chai-isms had this lovely idea and I just had to extend it.. :)

Disclaimer: I'm not a writer!

____________________________________

"Okay, okay, I get it. You missed me." He murmures softly, a wide grin spreading across his face. You can hear his heartbeat as you hug, a soothing rhythm that calmes your nerves, one hand cupping the back of your head gently. His leather jacket is cold against your skin, contrasting the warmth of his breath against your temple. You barely had time to brush your hair and hastily put on your pj's before answering the door, excitement washing over you knowing who's behind it.

"Damn right I did, you idiot." I still do, you wanted to admit. You always do. Saudade is difficult to deal with, it deepens when there’s nothing you can do to bring a person back to you and especially when death can easily fall into the equation. It always takes a few days for you to calm your restless heart down, sooth it that he's safe back home, where Sergeant Garrick is put to rest and Kyle gets to breathe again, alive once more.

You'd think that repetition makes it easier with time until you remember that your hug is a foreshadowing of the goodbye that would later tear you apart. It always does and there's nothing to fill the immeasurable emptiness until you can see kind amber eyes staring back into yours.

"Hey, I'm right here, all in one piece. I'm here." Now his lively cheekiness turns into reassuring whispers, as though he can sense your worried thoughts. You can feel his grip tighten, hearts thumping in unison to the sound of gentle rain landing on the ground outside.

You and Kyle are like magnets. Always finding your way back to each other no matter what. It's rare to find a friendship like yours, even more complex to describe it. You met five years ago when your dearest cousin started dating one of his closest friends, mutual gatherings bringing you closer together until you became inseparable. It wasn't abnormal for people to assume that there was something more between the two of you.

You won't lie to yourself that thoughts as such never creeped in. Thinking of all the late nights you'd spent covertly admiring his profile, he had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. A smile bright enough to illuminate the darkest corners of the room along with unusually sharp canines in contrast with his soft features.

He is striking, as if angels had carved his looks and you'd be a horrendous liar if you dared to say otherwise.

''I missed you too, you know. In case that wasn't clear.'' He finally untangles his arms from your body, hesitantly at first, then stands a foot apart, unwilling to completely let go. A sense of completeness washed over you, as if the hug had filled a void only he could create and make disappear. Kyle's eyes twinkle, accompanying the familiar playful tone in his voice before his gaze flicker past you, giving his attention elsewhere.

''Is he coming tonight?'' Oh. Him. You don't even have to match his gaze's direction to know he's staring at one of the photos on the wall. With Kyle's return, you forgot that the rest of the world existed, even your own boyfriend. The bitterness in his voice crystal clear matching the subtle frown on his lips.

They never liked each other, really. Always competing for the number one spot in your heart as if that question wasn't already answered with the way you look at solely one of them.

It hasn't been long since you've started dating Eric, a timid, gentle soul with strawberry blonde hair and emerald green eyes. He is handsome, no doubt. Always treating you with kindness and respect, giving you his undivided attention and time like every proper boyfriend should. Yet every time you look at him, you get reminded of the awful motive hiding behind the start of your relationship. He is Kyle's polar opposite.

It's fucked up, you know it. The moment cold realization washed over you like a thousand crushing waves that you might feel more for Kyle, you immediately said yes to the first person who showed interest in you. Someone who reminded you nothing of the man who offered you sleepless nights, wondering if he's still breathing under the same sky. A deluded solution to a problem that cannot be resolved.

"Uh, no. He's stuck at work, so he'll probably stay at his place tonight." The growing smirk that was plastered all over his face the second you mumbled those words was transparently clear, no ounce of shame behind filthy thoughts forming in his mind.

"Good, I deserve some time alone with you." He leers at you, eyebrow arching.

"Kyle-" You try to look away, eyes darting around the kitchen but inevitably drawn back to his.

"Obviously, you needed someone to fill the time now that I was gone." His forwardness doesn't surprise you one bit. Though you attempt to keep a cool demeanour, your body is practically vibrating with anticipation. You keep your eyes locked in his, arms over your chest as though to keep your trembling heart from jumping out.

"What makes you think he's not enough?" Your playful provocation works wonders. He looks at you with his mismatched gaze, daring. A fainted gasp escapes your lips, eyes widening as he suddenly closes the distance between you with a purposeful stride.

"You want proof now, Y/N?" Kyle murmurs, thumbs tracing your abdomen over your soft cotton shirt, teasing at the waistband of your shorts. He took a step closer, leading you to press your lower back against the kitchen table whilst holding your gaze, completely still, clearly just torturing you at this point. Suddenly, you feel Kyle's cool fingers smooth over your bare thigh, and you instinctively jerk your leg away. You don't mean to, your skin is warm, and his hands are frigid.

"How about the countless nights of you calling me after he leaves so I can finish what he couldn't?" His fingers gently touch the side of your neck, caressing it softly as the words melt into your system, bringing back the agreement you so desperately missed while he was away. You had initially brushed it off as sexual frustration mixed with alcohol and your disoriented brain when it first happened. Oh, how naive you were.

A New year's eve party, a drunken kiss and a soft whispered 'I want you' brought both of you back to your cold apartment, flaming skins and shameless moans disturbing the deafening silence of the night. It started happening more frequently, as if your body was subconsciously begging for his touch and he was always aware. Perhaps it was the deep rooted loneliness that led to this, Kyle with his isolated job and you with your self -destructive tendencies.

How utterly wrong you were. You desperately told yourself that once you get a proper boyfriend, you'd put an end to this. Your body had a different reaction to your plans, rejecting your boyfriend's touch as if Kyle engraved his name onto it and it will accept no other.

"Fuck, this is so wrong-" You admit, a little breathless as if the words have no meaning behind them. The guilt vanished the moment you saw him again.

"It's what friends do, right?" Goosebumps slither down your spine as he whispers in your ear, lips gently grazing your lobe and your hips buck slightly, desperately at the lightest touch. To your surprise, his erection is readily felt on your thigh through the thick layer of his jeans, making you quiver instinctively.

"Help one another when one's in need, hm?" A surge of arousal hits your body instantly, feeling the near instant reaction between your thighs arising by the second. You can't help but shudder as he runs his thumb over your clothed nipple, your breasts heaving as you breathe rapidly. You ache for him like a starved animal locked in a cage for far too long.

"And I'm gonna show you, what a good fucking friend I am." Kyle informs you, his lips descending hungrily upon yours. Before you can respond, he scoops you up in one swift sweep, wrapping your legs around his waist. You catch yourself wanting to curse your reflection out for ever complaining that he needs to spend less time at the gym whilst he carries you like nothing, setting you down on the table without ever so much as lessening the strength of his kiss. His tongue dances around yours, stopping only to bite and pull at your lower lip.

It didn't take long for him to start trailing sloppy kisses from your jaw to your pulse, biting the place at the base of your neck where it connected your shoulder, then sucking the skin and licking over the freshly formed bruise. The thought of the mess awaiting for you tomorrow when your mind is clear from his intoxication, briefly creeps in and disappears with the same pace, every muscle in your body clenching to his mercy.

''Fuck, I missed you.'' He breathes, voice thick and gravelly with need and desire, before tucking his head into the base of your neck to take a long, shuddering breath in, his hands scurrying hungrily over your hips, thighs, and stomach, as if he's trying to remember your perfume, your body all over again.

''Show me.'' Please, you want to add but the words are lodged in your throat and get swallowed down the moment he brings his gaze back up to meet yours, lips brushing your own softly. You'd ruin yourself for him, turn your life upside down, all he had to do was say the word.

''You want me to take care of you, love?'' He asks breathlessly, his nose nuzzling against yours gently, sending blood up to redden your cheeks furiously to the sound of the sweet endearment. The words were soft like a blanket, pulling at your heart.

''Yes, please.'' A soft whine escapes your parted lips softly, your hips arcing upwards desperately to try and meet his. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, screaming for him and him alone.

''You know I will.'' He murmurs, eyes darkening proportionally with each new inch of skin exposed as his fingertips slid underneath your shirt, caressing your sides. ''I always do.'' No doubt ever crossed your mind when it comes to him, yet it's never needless to have him say it, voice oozing with desire.

''Beautiful.'" He whispers, tugging your bra cups down so your breasts were over the fabric of your shirt, making you squeak, blinking owlishly at the sudden development. Gasping at his touch, you grind yourself against him, desperate for contact while he immediately begins sucking, biting, and licking your nipple while grabbing the other breast with his right hand, massaging it firmly.

''I need more- please Kyle!'' Your nails drag down his forearms, creating red lines impatiently and you're a mess. Suddenly the cool temperature of the room turns into unbearable heat, skin on fire contradicting the cold sweat slipping down your spine.

“That bad, hm?” He asks, slyly grinning against your burning skin. Even in these circumstances, he’s a cocky bastard, knowing exactly how lonely it felt without him, even with a warm body sleeping beside you. He quickly moves down so your thighs are on his shoulders, stretching between them, his cheek caressing against familiar softness. Your black laced undergarments slip off your body with ease, and you’re left bare under his hungry gaze.

He turns his attention to your soaked cunt, folds glistening with your overflowing slick. Without hesitation, he presses his lips against your slit, licking painfully slow your arousal and groaning at the taste of you.

Oh, if he only knew how many sleepless nights you spent with your own hand right where his mouth currently savors you, wishing it was him instead.

''Kyle-'' You moan his name like a desperate prayer, voice feeble and croaky to his touch. If your neighbors weren't already aware of his return, they are now. He shoots you a quick, sly smirk from between your legs before turning his focus to the task at hand, zeroing in on your clit, sucking tenderly as your legs clip down automatically around his ears, trembling.

His tongue is painfully, awfully delicate and torturously slow as it circles your sweet spot. In need to feel more pressure, you try to lift your hips into the pleasure as his grasp tightens on your thighs, promising blue shaded marks to appear so to hold you into place.

''I'll make up for the time I spent away from you.'' He drawles between tongue flicks, amber eyes fixed up at your face, not wanting to miss a second. Both of your hands were now gripping the table edge as you arch your back to the sensation, your core throbbing with pleasure.

''Your fingers-'' Before you could even finish your request, his plump lips rested against your clit, sucking it with need as he inserts two fingers inside of you with ease, curling them upwards to hit your spot instantly. His fingers fuck into you slowly, agonizing, matching the pace of his tongue flickering every inch of you. You jolt as if you’d been electrocuted, tense and shirking as you grip the wooden edges so tight, your fingernails might leave marks underneath.

''All yours, baby.'' His voice sounds so broken and wrecked, he craves this as much as you, if not more. Your fingers tug at his hair, desperate for something to keep yourself grounded. The sound that escapes his lips is so feral, almost like a growl. His pace is brutal, and your eyes blur with stars as he hits the deepest parts inside of you with his long fingers over and over.

You can feel the orgasm building inside of you with each thrust of his fingers, threatening to leave you shaking and breathless in a way no man could ever quite manage.

Kyle humms softly, and your toes curl as the sound washes over you like a heated wave.

"You taste so good, fuck-" He whispers breathlessly before licking you again, slower and more deliberately than before. The action draws a sharp cry from your lips which is quickly stifled as you bite down on them, squirming under the flickers of sensation. It never fails to surprise you how easily he can read your body language, as though you're connected and so he quickens his pace, working in broad strokes, sliding against the sides of your labia.

You can no longer control the moans and whimpers that leave you as he laps at your cunt, white dots your vision as the orgasm hits you hard, your whole body shaking with the sudden release of tension. When Kyle finally tugs his fingers out, your walls clench around them, almost like your body was trying to keep them inside for as long as possible. It was heady, intoxicating and you couldn't get enough.

Speechless, your hand reaches down to his face, tracing the outline of it with your fingertips.

''Don't mention it.'' Kyle chuckles at your loss of words, raising himself up so he can press a soft kiss on your cheek, before bringing his hand to his lips, allowing himself to taste your arousal soaking his fingertips.

''It's what friends do.''

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queenhunter102 · 23 hours

Text

Meeting the guys for the first time.

Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish.

Johnny would be nervous, like, REALLY nervous. This would be the first time you would be meeting his team, his brothers, and he would be fidgety and bouncy, like this man could not sit still.

Like he had soft launched your guy's relationship, letting you appear little by little, in video calls when he was away, talk about you in social spaces, like he posted your hands on his socials when he eventually got a few questions, all of which he artfully dodged (I.E. running away)

So when he brought you into the room, he tensed a little, watching as his team turned their full attention to him and you. He wrapped an arm over your shoulder. Their eyes locked and narrowed onto you; he tensed further when John stood up, walked over, and held his hand out to you.

“So, You’re the one who has been hogging our boy?” John said, smiling.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.

Now, Simon is a little less nervous. He literally NEVER TOLD ANYONE that you and he were together. Still, he was worried about how his found family would react to you. These were his brothers, and he trusted these men with his life, so he shouldn't worry about bringing you into the bar.

He quietly walks you into the bar, sliding you into what would be his seat. He removes his coat and puts it over the back of the chair, resting his forearms on it and leaning over you.

He watched each member to you, each expression going from a playful look to a surprise. He was surprised to find Simon in the seat but found you instead, like these men, who were shocked, to say the least.

Johnny would be the one to shake out of his stupor first and give you a smile. “Ahh, you’re the one he sneaks off to visit,” he said, nodding.

Alejandro Vargas.

Alejandro…is…… unique in the sense that he hardly hides you from the team. To him, things are often better when left to the imagination. He rarely shows pictures of you; if he does, it is a side profile or the back of you, all very obscure and very…magnetic. Still, he often talks with you on speakerphone in front of the team.

He would often send pictures of the boys to you, making it seem like each of them knew you before ever actually meeting you, so it wasn't much of a shock when Alejandro showed up with you on his arm, wearing one of his jackets.

Alejandro would press his lips to your ear, whispering who is who. While each of the boys eyed you, no one made a move. Still, when Simon gives you a nod, the rest of the team converges as if that is their signal, and suddenly, you are getting handshakes, waves, and hugs left, right, and centre.

“Ahh, yes, the invisible team member,” Gaz said, sipping his vodka.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

Gaz? I don’t think he would care. It's not like he isn’t keeping your super top secret. He’s careful to hide you on social media, considering his job. But still, he takes all the cute photos with you instead of holding ice cream, holding hands, and taking pictures of your OOTD.

And he certainly didn’t keep you a secret on base, like this man would show you off when he could. This man has his memory filled to the MAX of your face, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he brought you into the bar like he had been doing it for months, considering he didn't stop talking about you.

So when you smiled and introduced yourself, they gave you polite smiles and nods, as if you had been a part of their team or their lives for a while despite only being with Kyle for a few months.

Simon would be the first out of the lot to speak. “At least we can cut the light, fluffy shit and go straight to the trauma”, he said dryly, causing Kyle to pout and glare at him.

Captain John Price.

Finally, Price, our group's dad, has never talked about you on base. And we think Simon is bad? This man has no pictures anywhere, not in his office or on social media, like NOWHERE, so the boys were floored when he rocked up to the bar with your hand in hand.

Like it would be funny, he would smile and pull up a chair for you, casually leaning his arm over your chair. He would laugh at the boys' reaction and watch as their eyes flicked from John to you and back. He would smile and press sweet kisses to your cheeks, whispering sweet nothings.

As he sipped his whiskey before sliding you over the glass and letting you have a sip, each of the boys would just stare and blink before, one by one, they each shakily offered you their hand, giving you a chance to shake it, cause to these boys if their captain can keep you hidden from them? And not utter a singular word?

“Well, If this isn’t awkward, I don’t know what is”, Alejandro said, chugging some of his beer.

Taglist: @cringeycookies (If you wanna be in my Taglist: Here) Remember: leaving a like, re-blogging, and commenting helps in this world and encourages more. See you around, my little loves. Kissess.

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rookiesbookies · 25 days

Text

Welcome to task Whores 141.

We’re a nude maid company and we will send our buffest and bravest, to fight your unclean battles.

You’re options:

-Simon “Ghost” Riley

-John “Soap” MacTavish

-John “Bravo 1” Price

-Kyle “Gaz” Garrick.

>Simon “Ghost” Riley

-John “Soap” MacTavish

-John “Bravo 1” Price

-Kyle “Gaz” Garrick.

-Simon “Ghost” Riley

>John “Soap” MacTavish

-John “Bravo 1” Price

-Kyle “Gaz” Garrick.

-Simon “Ghost” Riley

-John “Soap” MacTavish

>John “Bravo 1” Price

-Kyle “Gaz” Garrick.

-Simon “Ghost” Riley

-John “Soap” MacTavish

-John “Bravo 1” Price

>Kyle “Gaz” Garrick.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick is selected.

When would you like to book him?

[ ]

[ ASAP ]

This is a little Intro to my maid AU. As usual my AU will probably have the two sides of “what if them” vs “what if you”. I couldn’t come up with a better name than “Whore41” so im sorry lmaoo.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, check out my AU list for more like this. Don’t forget to leave me a comment (i always try to respond) or a request in my inbox (i also try to respond to these when I can), a reblog, or even just a like to let me know what yall want to see!

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sinkovia · 3 months

Text

A cruel joke

Kyle Garrick x GN!Reader

A short slight angst w/ fluff and some appreciation for Gaz.

Walking side by side with Gaz, your heart raced. The weight of your confession felt like a million pounds on your shoulders, but you knew you couldn't wait any longer.

You'd been best friends for quite some time, and somewhere along the way, his sweet demeanor and the countless hours you spent together made you fall for him. You'd been too afraid to reveal the truth, fearing it would ruin your friendship.

When your mind drifted back to the close call Gaz had on your recent mission. You realized you didn't have the luxury to wait around and confess your feelings, one of you could easily die before then and you couldn't bear the thought of leaving without telling him how you truly felt.

You had always hoped that Gaz felt the same way, noticing the way he treated you differently from the others. It wasn't just friendship; you knew it was something more.

Amid the lively chatter and clinking of glasses in the rec room, you had gathered the courage to ask Gaz to join you for a walk. You stole a quick peek at his side profile as you cleared your throat, your voice slightly shaky as you began, "Kyle, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

He turned to you, his brown eyes locking with yours, his expression warm and attentive. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

"We've been through so much together," you continued, your voice growing more confident as you spoke. "And I... I just want you to know that you mean a lot to me." he nodded, an understanding look in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you decided it was now or never. "I never intended for it to happen, and I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship… but I have feelings for you...I love you Kyle..."

For a moment, there was silence, and Gaz's smile faded. Then, he started to laugh, a disbelieving sound that rang through the air. An unexpected reaction that crushed your heart. Your heart sank and hurt etched across your face. You blinked back tears that welled up in your eyes, struggling to maintain your composure. He stopped laughing abruptly when he saw the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

His demeanor shifted and he reached out, “Y/n wait.”

But it was too late; you were already walking down the hallway away from him with tears spilling from your eyes. Gaz stood there, his heart heavy with regret for his reaction.

He thought you were joking.

Gaz believed you were playing a sick joke on him. Despite loving you deeply, he never mustered the courage to express his feelings, convinced you wouldn't feel the same. His heart sank as he witnessed your tear-filled eyes, realizing he had hurt the person he cared about the most. Following the direction you left, he turned a corner to find Soap comforting you.

When he saw you walk away with him, Gaz decided to give you space, knowing that seeing him might only intensify your emotions. Patiently waiting until the next day, he found himself standing before your door, taking a deep breath before knocking. Nervousness consumed him, understanding that you might still be hurt and upset. After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing you with a mix of emotions in your eyes as they met his.

"What do you want?" He heard the anger in your tone.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I didn't think... I mean, I thought you were playing a prank on me when you said you loved me, so I laughed, I couldn't believe it. I love you more than anything, and I never thought you would feel the same way." You listened, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you.

Gaz continued, "I care about you a lot, and I would never intentionally hurt you. I was just caught off guard, and I reacted the wrong way… you mean so much to me"

Your eyes softened as you listened to him, and you sighed, understanding the depth of his emotions."I wasn't joking, Gaz. I've loved you for a long time, I was just scared if I told you it would ruin our relationship."

As the reality of your words settled in, Gaz felt a rush of happiness and relief. He took a step closer, gently cupping your face with his hands. You were taken aback by his sudden, gentle touch, and your eyes locked onto his. Gaz's lips met yours in a soft, sweet kiss, filled with warmth. As he pulled back, his eyes bore into yours, and he whispered, "I'm so glad you told me. I love you, Y/n, and I don't want to spend another day without you knowing it."

A warm smile spread across your face as you gazed at the man you had secretly loved for so long. "I love you too, Kyle."

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waves-against-a-cliff · 1 year

Text

The Dock

Below are my masterlists, regularly updated and equipped with content warnings. What you read is your problem, do not come for me because you read something its warnings displayed that you chose to ignore.

Also, no ageless or minor blogs. You will be blocked

Requests are open

Side Blog - spectres-n-soap

My AO3 - WavesAgainstACliff

Banner - “The Ninth Wave” c. 1850 by Ivan Aivazovsky Profile Picture - “Ships in Distress of a Rocky Coast” c. 1667 by Ludolf Backhuysen Header - “Dutch Ships in a Gale” c. 1620 by Jan Porcellis

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

John "Soap" MacTavish

John Price

Simon "Ghost" Riley

König

My Ocs

#masterlist #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #konig mw2 #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x könig x reader

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simon-rileys · 5 months

Text

Kyle Gaz Garrick who meets you the most mundane way when you spill your coffee on his shirt on your way out of the coffee pub while he just got in. You stare at the stain on his chest, horrified, and beg him to let you help with the stain since your apartment is only a block away and honestly it is your fault. At first Gaz agrees just to calm you down from the spiral, but then you're talking and god how is he supposed to not ask you out when you laugh like the fucking sun at his jokes, like come on, he is only a man.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who takes you on a date in a park at night, and you tease him, till he's taking out a blanket and a basket out of the trunk of his car and sitting you down at the old romcom projector screening at the park. It's a sweet and quiet affair, you catching him up on characters when he loses the thread, too busy looking at your moonlit profile, and him bunching you up in blankets and his jacket so you don't catch a cold.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who, in fact, catches the cold. It's ridiculous after the places and situations he works in day to day, but he's ready to chance another helicopter incident than hack up another bone jarring cough. His phone rings off the hook till he picks it up to hear your sweet voice, and lo and behold, there you are, at his doorstep with soup and medicine.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who feels something settle just under his ribs when you fuss over him, taking over his kitchen and bundling him up in blankets, holding a steaming cup of mint tea under his nose, refusing to accept his no. You let him clean up and make him change into a clean set of sweats, taking it upon yourself to tidy his room, and there's Gaz, his fever addled mind unable to fully comprehend the domesticity.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who doesn't let you leave after he falls asleep on you on the sofa watching The Emperor's New Groove, and you don't have it in your heart to move him. So there he wakes, fever broken, nose stuffy, to find your heart soft under his head, your tshirt stained with tears and mucus and sweat, and yet the first instinct you have after waking is to press those soft hands against his head to check the fever.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who is so aware of how his heart can't even be called his own since you're all there is in it. You mourn your plants over dinner and tell him about your nosy coworkers, and Gaz's heart aches with how familiar it all feels. How familiar you feel.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who doesn't feel the butterflies, doesn't feel his heart jump. It's a quiet kind of settling, where his soul knows you. It's not a holy shit you could be mine, it's more like whoa, there you are, because he's been yours since you looked over your shoulder at that park, your hair shining silver under the moon and joked about the cheesy movie.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who tells as much to the 141 on his first day back, because hiding it is no use after the way his face lights up at your caller id asking if he got to base safely. He half-regrets it immediately once he sees the look on Johnny's face. Price is no better and honestly is somehow worse than the Scot, where the two of them can't wait to meet 'his sunshine'. (Their words not his he would like to say on record. (NOT that he's arguing)). The only bearable one is Simon, or so Gaz thinks, till you're on a video call and Simon cracks one of his jokes and then there you are going back and forth on the driest humor known to mankind. Soap is about to bribe you with scotch from his personal stock just to make the two of you shut up, and Kyle's lips hurt from the grin he's been sporting for the past half hour. He's so happy he could marry you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who will in fact marry you. He tells Soap as much after the ring falls out of his desk in a bout of tipsy chess-boxing that Ghost suggested to sharpen their minds and bodies. Kyle had suspected he was joking again but LT's humor is hard to discern sometimes and well they were bored anyways. Price congratulates him with a toast, Simon offers him a firm shake and a short 'good job Gaz' that he acknowledges for the emotion it carries in the soft eyes behind the mask as he tells Gaz he made the right choice. He would've had more affection in the return hug for the one Soap offered had the Scot not clapped him on the shoulder with too much enthusiasm and made him fumble the ring on the floor.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who watches silently in absolutely terrifyingly slow motion as the ring slips his grasp and lodges itself deep into the crevice between his desk and the wall and the floorboard, evading his desperate attempts to catch it.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who will propose to you as soon he gets back. Just- just let him find it first. And yes it is objectively hilarious to see four highly trained and virtually killing machines on the floor trying to get a ring out of the crevice but they have big fingers and they're drunk. Gaz is seriously considering another ring. Price is telling him not to give up. They're too drunk to notice the pencil knife on the desk that can be used to pull the ring out. It takes them 87 minutes. They all pass out on the floor of Gaz's bunk till your call comes through.

Kyle Gaz Garrick who smiles like a madman as Price tells the same story in his Best Man's speech, the ring now shining on your left hand that's been in his own hands since you reached the alter hours ago. There's dents on the inside of the ring where they tried to pry it out of the corner using a tactical knife. Kyle suggested repairing it but got it halfway out of his lips before being silenced by your 'don't you dare!'

Kyle Gaz Garrick who spills coffee down his own shirt three years later in the morning after you wake up to him holding the pregnancy test you forgot to pick up from your vanity after your call making sure his plane touched down safe.

#is this anything?#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #jace.txt #i have never played this game #but I tried #just let me know if the characterization is wrong and I'll try better next time

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frostzszk · 2 months

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Introduction!!

about me:

My name is Milo and i'm a Transboy, but you can call me by my alter-ego Frost!.

I'm from Brazil and I use Google translate for some things, so bear with me

I don't feel comfortable saying my age but know that I'm not under 12

All ages are welcome on my profile but know that I am not responsible for the content you read, especially because in all content, I will place a warning.

which fandons do I write for:

Call of duty

What characters do I write:

Captain John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" Mactavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai, Vladimir Makarov, Milena Romanova, Andrey Nolan, Valéria Garza, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo Parra, Phillip Graves, Alex Keller, Farah Karim, König

What I will definitely NOT write:

Rape/Non-Con

Water games

Things involving feces or vomit in the act

Age play

#call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #phillip graves #alex keller #valeria garza #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #farah karim #cod nikolai #vladimir makarov #milena romanova #andrei nolan #könig cod

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plagues02 · 2 months

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Is There Room For Four?

Chapter Two - Room for a Third

Summary: A few years after Ghost accepted Roach as his soulmate, they get called up by an old friend, asking them to join his new task force. Task Force 141. Little did anyone know, this would lead to more color being introduced to their world Characters: Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Gary 'Roach' Sanderson, Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, John Price, Kate Laswell Ship: GhostRoach, SoapGhostRoach, End Game SoapGhostRoacgKönig, Platonic SoapGaz, Platonic Laswell and Price Word Count: 3436 Note: This was written back in 2022 and was originally posted on Ao3 Chapters: One, Two(You're Here), Three, Four

It has been almost three years since that day. Since then, Gary and Simon stayed teamed up at the request of the higher-ranking soldier, which surprised everyone including Ghost. They worked well together, making them the perfect two for Price to ask to join his new task force.

Roach leaned over the Brit’s shoulder to look at the papers the captain slid to them. Task Force 141 was written on the top folder with the logo of the force printed under it.

Price asked to meet them at a small pub near Roach’s and Ghost’s small London flat on their off night. It seemed oddly timed, causing the duo to wonder if their off day was planned by the older man. He was high enough rank that it wouldn’t surprise them. Ghost flipped open the folder and read the first few lines of the paper:

Task Force 141. Founded by Captain John Price. Commanded by Captain John Price, Station Chief Kate Laswell, and General Shepard. Task Force 141’s goal is to counter-terrorism throughout the world.

Ghost continued to read as Roach reached for two other files. Other recruits, most likely the two who Price mentioned had accepted the proposal. Sergeant Kyle Garrick, code name Gaz, and Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, code name Soap. Soap? What kind of name was Soap?

The Brit looked over at the folders the American was holding. Ghost placed the main file down and took one of the profiles. His eyes raised an eye behind his mask. Price knew which file he grabbed.

“He’s known for his speed and accuracy,” Price said. “Cleans out a room like no other.”

The folders were placed on the table again, and Ghost reached for his drink, bourbon of course. The man paused as he started to bring it up to his lips, remembering his mask in time. Roach silently chuckled, watching him pull his mask just enough to drink. Roach looked back at the captain, moving his hands up to bring attention to himself.

“What will we bring to the table for you? You seem to have a good team already,” he signed in BSL, not ASL. He has learned it since he was living in England, not the United States any more.

Price shifted to lean against the table, hands clasped together in front of him. Both sets of eyes were on him.

“Soap is fast and accurate. Gaz is a good kid. I’ve worked with him before, and I know he’s prepared for the types of missions we’ll take. I’ve read both of your files, and I worked with you before, Ghost.”

Ghost gives a small head motion to confirm. He worked with Price when he first became Ghost many years ago, and a few times when he was known as Simon. Back then, things seemed so different.

“You’re a cold man, Ghost, but you know how to get the job done. You also trust Gary, or would you prefer Roach?”

“Either is fine to me outside of missions. On missions, Roach only.”

Price nodded and continued, “Ghost trust you. The loner asks to have you on any duo missions and is very grumpy when he doesn’t get it his way.-” Roach smiled under his balaclava as Ghost made a noise of disapproval. “-Your file says you’re great on stealth missions and are a team player.”

The captain paused while he looked over at the two once again in thought. “Excuse me if this is personal, but I must ask. You two, you’re soulmates, right? What kind?”

The two glanced at each other, surprised by the question. They knew this question would come up. It always did when they were recruited for something, especially something as large as this. Some in the military saw soulmates as a good thing, something that strengthened the bonds between two soldiers to make them more efficient. However, some saw it as a bad thing, something that would weaken and distract soldiers.

Some people thought it could be either way too. A romantic soulmate was seen as a distraction. Their loving feelings would get in the way of their rational thinking, leading them to protect each other rather than focus on the mission. A platonic soulmate was seen as a strength. A way to bond with each other, increasing the likeliness of success.

“Romantic,” Ghost finally said, shaking his drink in his hand to hear the sound of the ice clanking against the glass. “Is that a problem?

The captain shook his head. “No, No, not a problem at all. Just something we need in the files,” he explained. “Our other two members, Gaz and Soap, are platonic soulmates. I myself am platonic soulmates with another member of Task Force 141, Laswell.”

“Soulmates are not a problem for me or any of the other members. Now, you two joining is up to you. I’ll give you time to think,” Price said, reaching for the files.

They joined. It took about a week of talking to each other about it, making sure they were making the right choice for them before they finally agreed. Then it took almost another week for them to finally meet the rest of the couple. It was decided they would meet back at the pub.

Ghost and Roach got there first, sitting at a table large enough for the group in the back of the pub. Roach was not a drinker himself, and Ghost preferred not to be in busier places so it wasn't common for the two to be seen in pubs. However, the business of this specific pub made it look less suspicious for the group to meet up.

"You need to loosen up. You're tense," signed Roach.

Unlike Ghost, Roach decided to take off his mask for this. He didn't mind people seeing his face, like the Brit did. Gary never pushed the subject, being his choice, but he would tease the other with his body language.

Ghost waved a hand in the air, looking at his reflection in his drink of choice. “You know that’s not going to happen. Why push it?”

“Because I want to see you be more comfortable. We’re meeting our new team, who we may be with for a long while.”

A silent laugh left Gary’s lips when the other took a drink of the alcohol. Well, tried to at least. He forgot to pull the balaclava; the front of it was now covered in bourbon. Irritation filled Ghost’s eyes, placing the drink back down on the table.

The American reached into his pocket and held something out to the other man. The Brit looked down to see the plain army green one owned and worn by Gary on missions being offered to him. Having the choice of a plain balaclava or one that was covered and smelt like alcohol, he picked the plain, whether it suited him or not.

“Oh hush, Bug,” the Brit playfully warned as Gary continued to laugh. He leaned over the other with narrowed eyes. The American pushed forward, banging their heads together.

“We interrupting anything, boys?”

The two looked over at the owner of the voice to see the other had got here. Four more people joined the table as the two men separated again from each other.

Ghost looked over at the new people. They both knew Price, and he knew Laswell. This was Gary’s first time meeting her face to face, but they had worked on missions together before. Neither of them knew the two new members. Gaz and Soap.

Gaz was the youngest of the couple, just about a year younger than Gary. From the file, they knew he had worked with both Laswell and Price not too long ago on another mission. Along with a named Alex and a woman named Farah. Ghost wondered why they weren’t asked to join instead of him and Gary.

Then Soap, what a stupid name. He acted like he had never seen a day of war in his life, overly positive. However, Ghost knew better from watching Gary over the years. Sometimes it worked better to just ignore all the bad things you had been through. At least, that’s what Gary had told him one night.

"Ghost and Roach," Price introduced the two to the others. "I'm sure you too remember who is who from the files."

Ghost shook his drink a little as he nodded. "Gaz-" He nodded at the youngest. "-and Soap, right…" Instead of ending in a question, he started to trail off.

His eyes met with Soap's as he spoke. Just like when he met eyes with Roach, more color filled his world, starting with the blue of his eyes. His mouth ran dry, and his body moved before his brain could catch up. Gary watched the older man walk away, eyebrows furrowing together. He looked over at Soap, wondering what that was about.

His breath got caught in his throat as he figured out what it was about. The blue of Soap’s eyes filled his world. He saw purple out of the corner of his eyes, but there were still parts that were void of color. He made a split-second decision.

“I’m sorry,” he hurried to sign before walking away to speak with his, no, their other soulmate.

Johnny MacTavish, also known as Soap, believed a lot of things. He believed he would be making a difference when joined Task Force 141. He believed things could only look better after his last failed mission. He also believed his soulmate would not run away from him. He also believed he would only have one soulmate. At least three of those beliefs were wrong.

“What just happened?” Laswell was the first to speak, looking back at the ones left at the table.

When her eyes fell on Soap, she knew. Her face dropped, and she looked over at Price. His eyes were wide as he stared ahead at the empty seats, unsure how to react. Beside him, Gaz shifted and leaned over, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” He asked, trying to break the other out of his shocked trance.

Soap looked away from the stops from where the others were once sitting. He could see color. Browns, blues, reds. There were still a few locked to him. Was it green? Could he not see green? Or… who knows? The names of colors were hard to remember when you couldn’t see them for most of your life.

Blue came into his life when he met eyes with Ghost. Then he ran away from the table. Roach looked confused at first, but then he met eyes with the other. More colors came into his life with browns and reds. Then Roach also left.

“Well,” Soap tried to find his words. “I have more than one soulmate, romantic soulmate, and they both just left.”

Gaz’s hand on his shoulder turned into a grip, a strong one. Price gave Gaz a look, telling him to stay, and Laswell reached over to place a hand on Soap’s. It was one thing to have one soulmate reject you, but to have two soulmates at once reject you was something else.

Price reached over and placed a hand on Soap’s other shoulder with a small forced smile, "Give them some time, son. It's a change for all of you." His words sounded empty

Soap sighed softly, rubbing his face. When the day started, he was actually excited to meet the rest of Task Force 141, his new teammates. The Scot had already met Gaz, his platonic soulmate, and he thought nothing could go wrong. Now, he was in a crowded pub, and his romantic soulmates left him. His chest felt tight, and he left small. The steady flow of people coming in and out of the pub didn’t help.

Gaz sat up straight when he noticed the other’s hands going up to his hair, ready to tug at the mohawk. He stood up, pulling Soap up with him.

“We’re going for a walk, sir. He needs to get somewhere quiet.”

Price nodded as they walked away, not waiting for a response. Gaz held onto his shoulder to lead him through the count and outside the building. The younger man couldn’t help but look around for either Ghost or Roach or both of them. Neither was around, not that anyone saw if they had left the pub or not.

When looking around, Gaz saw a park not too far away and decided to lead the Scot that way. The Scot half leaned on his platonic soulmate, trying to get his heavy breathing under control.

At the park, they walked down one of the main traits lit up by the streetlamps above them. No one was out at that time, and the only noise around was the wildlife. Soap was starting to calm down, and Gaz smiled when he saw that the other wasn’t trying to pull at his hair.

“Hey, you know what I thought when I first saw you?”

“Huh?”

The two decided to stop at a bench near the other side of the park that they entered. “I thought you were an odd man. The smile seemed odd to me. You know, with our line of work at all. My second thought was, well, I’m sure you know what it was.”

The Scotsman chuckled. Unlike romantic soulmates, platonic soulmates just knew they were soulmates at first eye contact. No need for fancy color changes. Only simple eye contact.

“I didn’t know what the feeling was at first,” admits Soap. “It wasn’t until Price first mentioned Laswell and their relationship. I never knew there were didn’t there were different kinds of soulmates.”

The Brit snorted. “Well, everyone does worry about their romantic soulmates. No one thinks of platonic soulmates. My grandma told me about them. She had one, and I heard they were closer than grandma and grandpa were. I never got to meet him.”

They sat in silence for a while. Soap traced the lines of Gaz’s hand to keep himself calm as Gaz looked around the park. His eyes fell on something across the road from them.

“Soap, why don’t we go over to that twenty-four-hour restaurant over there?” The younger one asked. “You could use something to keep your mind off that pub.”

Soap hummed a little and looked up at the restaurant. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Oh, and Soap,” Gaz reached into his pocket as they both stood up.

“Hm?”

“I think this was Ghost’s,” he grinned, holding out a damp balaclava with a skull face printed on it. “Make them talk to you.”

Gary closed and locked the door of their flat behind them. A frown came to his lips as he watched Ghost fall back onto their couch with a groan. He shook his head a little and looked around their home, taking in the new colors. There were still some grays so was there a fourth member out there? Hopefully, meeting them goes better than meeting this one.

“I fucked up.”

The American looked back at Simon, studying him. He had pulled off the balaclava and thrown it elsewhere. Gary sat down beside him and grabbed one of his hands, squeezing lightly.

“What?” Simon asked when he saw the other was staring at his face.

Gary cupped his cheek, rubbing his thumb over one of the many scars. His eyes were still gray, and he frowned at it. He just wanted to see his eye color like Simon could see his.

“Hey now,” Simon chuckled softly when his lover pressed a kiss against his jaw and nuzzled his neck.

The Brit wrapped his arms around the other, pulling him into his lap. They stared at each other for a while before the older man moved first to press their lips together. He followed Gary’s lips when he tried to move away.

Needy, thought the American as Simon continued to show affection. So needy.

It became a game to them. Gary would try to pull away as Simon followed his lips, pulling him closer. The Brit tilted his head a little more, opening his mouth slightly. The American copied, still pulling away slightly.

“You’re being difficult,” Simon let out a small groan, causing a chuckle to leave Gary’s lips.

The Brit was the first one to pull away with a sigh. He hid his face on the other’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t have walked away like that… I shouldn’t have walked away like that.”

Gary let out a hum in agreement, reaching up to run his fingers through the other hair. Simon continued, “We’ll hopefully see him again,,, soon. I need to talk to him.”

The American took the older man’s head in his face and studied him. He smiled a little and kissed his nose before pulling his hands away to sign.

“I’m sure we will since we are on the same task force. I’ll go with you, to make sure you don’t run away again.”

“I did not run away,” Simon tried to start. “Okay, okay, I did. Now, where were we?” Gary let out a small laugh before pressing their lips together again.

It was almost a week later when the team got together again. It was on the base for their first team training session. After the session, they decided to go to a less popular but still good pub to get to know each other. Gaz showered and dressed the fastest, leaving the three soulmates together in the shower/changing room together.

Gary looked up at Soap from the bench he was sitting on. The younger one was wearing only his underwear and was busy drying his hair with a towel. The Scotsman looked like he wanted to say something, but he just sat by the American. The older man was dressed in pants only, leaving his torso bare.

His body was covered in scars, just like the rest of their bodies. He wasn’t as scarred as Ghost or Roach did, but still had plenty to be noticeable. Soap had two scars under his chest, similar to Ghost’s.

“You’re staring,” The Scotsman said.

Roach blushed. “Sorry,” he signed before looking away, rubbing the back of his neck. “And sorry for running like that before.”

The older man chuckled softly, reaching over to pat his back. “No worries. If I remember correctly, you weren’t the way to run away. You followed.”

Roach chuckled silently, looking up at the sound of the water turning off. Ghost stepped out of the shower, looking at the two on the bench, before turning away to grab a shower. They all remained quiet for a while as Ghost slipped into pants.

The youngest looked over at the sounds of rustling. Soap was reaching into his pocket while staring down at the ground. He pulled a mask out, and Roach recognized it as the one Ghost left at the pub.

The Scot looked down at the mask, tracing the lower jaw of the mask. Over the week, he thought about this moment a lot, and he wondered how he would go about this. But now, the moment came, and he was lost. He made up his mind when he saw the oldest of the three reach for one of his masks.

“Ghost,” he stood up, “you left this at the pub.”

Ghost turned, meeting his eyes. He stepped closer by a few steps before reaching out to take the mask. They both gripped the balaclava while staring at each other. The Brit was silently admiring his blue eyes while Soap was hesitating on letting go.

Roach watched on the sidelines, fiddling with his hands and tapping his foot in thought. The room felt tense around them for a few seconds, but the tension fell as soon as Ghost reached up to cup the other’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

Soap smiled a little with a small laugh, for relief, leaning against his hand. The American stood up and took a few steps closer to them. The Scots glanced over and held one arm up.

“...”

Gary smiled and took the invitation, wrapping his arms around his bare torso. His smile widened when he felt Simon step forward to hug the two of them. The Scotsman pressed his face against Gary’s brown hair, leaning into the embrace.

It may be hard at first, but they would figure it out. Ghost knew they would. After all, he and Gary always did, so why would it be any harder with another soulmate added into the mix?

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