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halfmoth-halfman · 2 years ago

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forever is mine with you

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!Reader Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: cheating (reader gets cheated on) & fluff Prompt: Neighbors Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: we've got more gaz for @glitterypirateduck’s GazFest 2023 💜

January

Kyle's new neighbor moves in the day after New Year's.

He hadn’t even known his old neighbor had moved out, so rare was it that he spent time at home. He sees the moving van just as he’s returning from his morning run, slowing to a curious pace as he passes by to get into the apartment building. The van doors are wide open, revealing a few larger boxes and a long, black couch, but there’s no one around.

He knows this area is safe, that there’s very little chance of someone making off with any of the boxes–and no chance of someone getting away with the couch–but he’s a worrier at heart. So, he hovers near the entrance, pretending to be occupied on his phone while keeping an eye on the van through the large glass windows of the building.

His breath hitches in his throat the second you step into the lobby. You look positively exhausted, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings with stray pieces of your tied-up hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Deep bags run under your eyes as you blink away sleep and what Kyle suspects is remnants of a New Year’s well-spent. Despite your tired appearance, there’s a wide smile spread across your face that has his heart skipping a beat as you head out to the van and start pulling out another box.

The box could be heavy, Kyle thinks, watching you slide it across the floor of the van. It would be rude not to offer help.

He gets two steps toward the door when someone rushes past him, and a man hurries to the van to lift the box from your hands. You stick your tongue out at him and lean over the box to give him a quick kiss before you disappear into the van again. Kyle decides to wait to introduce himself and, with one last look at your grinning face, turns to head back to his flat.

February

He doesn’t see you again for a month.

It’s not that he didn’t want to properly introduce himself, he just never had the chance. It seemed the two of you were operating on different schedules, only catching small glimpses of each other like ships passing in the night.

He has one week of leave left, and Kyle intends to make every second worth it. He spends the day outside, enjoying the fresh air and treating himself to his favorite takeout. He’s reluctant to return to his flat, but the moment he steps onto his floor he can’t seem to remember why.

All of his thoughts go straight to you, and the way you’re standing outside of your door looking like something straight out of his dreams.

Not that he would ever admit to dreaming of you, of course.

You’re all dressed up, more beautiful than anyone Kyle has ever seen. Hair done and decorated with tiny pearls to match the string of pearls around your neck, makeup flawless right down to the velvet red painted on your lips, he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. It’s the dress that does him in. All crimson silk as it clings to every curve of your body, a slit in the leg that is so sinfully high.

You must feel him staring because you turn your head and meet his eyes with shocking quickness. Kyle composes himself, not wanting to be labeled as the creepy neighbor, and gives a wave with a polite, friendly smile. You smile back, almost bashful, as you shift on your feet.

Say something, he scolds himself, don’t just stare.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks once he’s managed to find his voice. You raise a brow, something like amusement crossing your face.

“Valentine’s Day?” you laugh softly with a tilt of your head.

Right. It was the 14th, wasn’t it? It’d been so long since he’d celebrated–or had someone to celebrate with–Kyle had stopped thinking about the holiday.

“Fun plans, then?” he says, nodding to your dress and trying his hardest not to stare at the way your pearl necklace dips into the deep neckline.

You shrug, and there’s a quick, nervous glance back to your door, “Not sure, yet. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Your smile falls just a bit before you overcompensate and replace it with an even bigger one, but Kyle–too observant for his own good–sees right through you.

“Not a fan of surprises?” Kyle asks before he can stop himself.

“I–”

Your door opens, and Kyle notices the way you jump at the noise. He keeps the smile on his face, but he can feel his jaw tensing as your boyfriend steps out in his crisp black suit and red tie. He ignores Kyle altogether, sliding a hand around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. The two of you exchange quiet words before he begins to guide you toward the lift.

You glance over your shoulder, giving Kyle a quick smile. You turn away before he has time to smile back, and Kyle resigns himself to a night alone.

April

He’s gone for a month, but he thinks about you every day.

He tells himself it’s curiosity, that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get to know the new person living next to him. It’s all purely platonic.

He knows he’s lying.

When he finally returns home, after a draining month of blood and dry sand, he finds himself hoping to see you.

He doesn’t, not for a few days anyway. You don’t appear until he’s coming back from his morning run. He’s walking into the lobby, too busy looking at his phone, just as you’re walking out, too focused on the drink in your hand.

You collide with him, falling into a tangle of limbs and hot coffee. There’s a flurry of apologies from both ends, only worsening when Kyle notices the coffee stain on your cream sweater. You shrug it off, telling him you weren’t going anywhere important anyway, but the guilt is still there.

He knows he should make it up to you, so he does the only thing he can think of.

He offers to bring you up to his place and take one of his sweaters while he cleans yours.

Your face drops into an expression of shock, and worry courses through him, but you shake yourself out of your daze and, surprisingly, you agree.

He tries to ignore the hammering of his heart as he leads you up to his flat. You don’t seem bothered, perhaps a little too trusting, following him inside without comment.

The first thing you do is compliment his home, and Kyle feels shyness creeping up his spine. He points you to his bedroom, telling you to pick anything you want while he waits in the kitchen. He makes himself a cup of tea, trying to soothe the nerves building up in his chest.

This isn’t how he expected his day to go, but he’s not complaining. Not when you’re feet away in his bedroom, looking through his closet so you can wear one of his shirts.

She has a boyfriend, you idiot. Stop it.

No matter how much he bullies himself, Kyle can’t find it in him to care.

“Military, huh?”

Kyle looks up, ready to give some snarky retort, but he sees you wearing that worn grey sweater with his last name faded across the back and his mind stops working.

You stare at him expectantly, clearing your throat as you hold out your ruined sweater. “You alright?”

Kyle snaps out of it, taking the sweater with a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He most certainly is not fine and is quick to distract himself by setting your sweater on the counter as he fills a bowl with warm water from the tap. You take a seat at the counter, watching him mix vinegar and dish-washing detergent together with an adorable curiosity.

“I had a cousin in the military,” you speak, leaning your elbows on the counter.

Kyle chuckles, taking a rag and soaking it in the bowl. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “He never had any interesting stories, though.”

Kyle glances up at you, right in time to catch you looking at him with a sly, curious smile on your face.

“I take it you think I do?” he asks, smirk pulling at his lips as he dabs at the coffee stain on your sweater with the damp rag.

“Do you?” You lean forward slightly, eager interest laced in your voice.

If you were anyone else he would say no, shut down the conversation before it could even begin. But you’re not anyone else, and all it takes is one look at those eyes for him to give in.

He keeps things vague and harmless, enough to be interesting for you without revealing any important information or going into gory detail, and you hang on to every word with a refreshing fascination. You ask thoughtful questions, laugh at his cheesy jokes, and listen with an intensity he’s rarely seen, even on base.

You urge him to continue once he’s done, pressing for more, and he’s all too happy to oblige.

You spend the entire day with him, moving from the kitchen to the living room once your sweater is coffee-free. You don’t bother changing out of Kyle’s, far too interested in what he’s saying to consider even a few minutes of distraction.

When the conversation shifts to lighter subjects, neither of you seems to mind. In fact, Kyle offers to make lunch, and you agree with a speed that has both of you laughing.

You’re so easy to talk to, Kyle finds. He would talk to you forever if you allowed it, and he hopes you feel the same. He thinks you do, judging by the way you ignore your phone every time it chimes in favor of continuing your conversation.

Eventually, the sun begins to sink behind the horizon and your phone starts ringing. You roll your eyes, answering with a calm voice despite the way your shoulders tense.

The conversation is short, and you hang up with a huff.

“I should probably get going,” you sigh, offering him an apologetic smile.

“It’s alright,” Kyle shrugs, an easy smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s not like you don’t live right next door.”

You excuse yourself to change back into your sweater and bid him goodbye with a sweet smile that almost has him begging for you to stay.

He finds his sweater folded up on the end of his bed, and his heart aches at the lingering scent of your perfume.

August

In the following months, you and Kyle become close friends.

Almost as close as he and Soap, which is saying something.

When he has to leave again, he lets you know, and you surprise him with a care package of homemade cookies and a letter the day before he leaves. You say it’s from you and your boyfriend, but you both know it isn’t; the man has actively ignored Kyle despite your best efforts to introduce them.

Soap eats most of the cookies, but Kyle doesn’t mind, too enamored with your letter. Your letter is as cute as you are, well wishes for him to come home safe, and carrying the soft scent of your perfume. He reads it almost every night, and Soap has no problem making fun of him for it.

“Some friend, ye got there,” Soap laughs. “Sure that’s all it is?”

Kyle knows what he should say.

She’s seeing someone else. We’re just friends.

But Soap gives him that knowing look, and Kyle knows he can’t continue to lie to himself.

It’s not like you’re happy with him. He’s heard you and your boyfriend fighting through the walls–voices raised, but not quite yelling–and he sees the irritation that causes you to tense when he calls or texts. You don’t smile the same when you’re with him, not like the happy carefree grin you give Kyle.

When the mission is finally finished, and Kyle is granted permission to go home, he’s made up his mind. He’s going to tell you how he feels, and let you decide where to go from there.

Or that was the plan until he knocks on your door and you answer with red eyes, obviously swollen from crying.

You don’t give him a chance to ask what’s wrong, throwing yourself into his arms as you sob into his chest. He guides you into your entryway, closing the door behind him with his boot. He calms and soothes you, cooing soft words and light kisses of comfort into your hair as he runs his hands up and down your back.

He lets you cry as long as you need to, and it takes almost an hour for you to calm down enough to tell him what’s happened.

You had come home from work two days ago to find your boyfriend with another woman in your bed. He used the excuse that you had Kyle, so it was only fair that he got to get some for himself too. You had screamed and yelled and raged, throwing him out that same day as he spewed obscenities at you.

The crying starts again, and Kyle is quick to calm you, assuring you that everything’s going to be alright.

“Didn’t need him anyway,” he huffs.

“Yeah, fuck him,” you pout, and Kyle agrees wholeheartedly.

The wallowing takes its toll on you, cries shifting to a long yawn as your eyes begin to droop. You lean your head on his shoulder, body sagging against the solid weight of him. Kyle urges you to get some sleep, offering to take the couch if you need him there.

“No,” you mumble. “I can’t sleep here. Not in that bed.”

If he were a better man, he’d suggest the couch while he slept on the floor.

Instead, he leads you next door, straight to his bed, where he helps tuck you in. Your eyes shut the moment your head hits the pillow, and something tugs at his heat when you subconsciously curl into his blankets.

He turns to leave and let you have your much-needed rest, but the moment he does, your hand reaches out and wraps around his. You blink at him, eyes wide and sad, and whisper into the room, “Stay.”

And in that moment, Kyle knows he’ll never be able to deny you anything.

December

Kyle insists on taking time for yourself and letting you properly heal before jumping right into things with him.

He’s frustratingly right, and you appreciate his concern for you, but that doesn’t change how much you feel for him.

Your now ex-boyfriend had been right to an extent; you certainly felt things for Kyle you hadn’t felt for him in a long time. Of course, you never acted on those feelings–unlike him–staying close to Kyle while keeping things platonic.

You’d seen it coming for a while, if you were honest with yourself. The new place was a temporary fix, a flimsy band-aid slapped over an ever-growing crack in the glass of an aquarium. You knew you deserved better than his dependency and weaponized incompetence.

You knew the flood was imminent, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

But now he’s gone, and while you know you need time to recover, it’s hard to concentrate when Kyle hands you a key to his flat and tells you you’re welcome anytime.

You try to tell him you’re fine, that the ending of your relationship had been more like a weight lifting from your shoulders, but he insists you take at least two weeks and one therapy visit before making your decision.

You oblige, and you have to admit he knows what he’s talking about. When the two weeks are up, you tell him you need more time, ignoring the smug grin on his face. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t taunt you with an I told you so, but you can see it in his eyes. He does tell you he’s proud of you, and you ride the high that gives you all the way to your next therapist visit.

Kyle leaves in the last week of August, letting you spend his last night with him in his bed. He doesn’t make a move on you, simply holding you close while murmuring impossible promises of safety and success to your sleeping form.

It’s agony waiting for him to return, never knowing what could be happening to him while you’re safe and sound in the comfort of his home. The space is good for you, though. It gives you time to process things, to really talk through your emotions and concerns with your wonderfully patient therapist.

You’ve barely been in your own home in the past few months, the anxiety and betrayal that stalks the halls too much for you to handle, and she helps you realize that you need to make some changes.

So, when Kyle returns at the end of November, he finds you in his kitchen, dancing along to a song on your phone as you cook something that smells positively delicious.

He’s content to watch you, welcoming the sight of you after a long and tedious mission.

It’s something he could get used to coming home to.

When you finally notice him, it only takes a second for the realization to hit you before you’re leaping into his arms with an excited cheer. Kyle wastes no time, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can, welcoming your familiar warmth and scent. He tries to lean forward to tuck his face into your neck, but you stop him, placing your hands on his jaw.

He stares at you curiously, watching your eyes dip down to his mouth before you pull him forward to close the gap. A year’s worth of swallowed emotions pour into the kiss, and when you pull away, Kyle chases after you to kiss you again.

You spend the rest of the night attached to one another. Kyle “helps” you cook, keeping his hands on your hips as he peppers smiling kisses and gentle nips down your neck. You push him away with sweet giggles, but he always comes back seconds later.

When dinner’s done and eaten, he pulls you to the couch into his lap, so he can continue smothering you in kisses. You meet him kiss for kiss, unable to get enough of him. It takes nearly an hour before you’re able to separate yourself from him to give him your news.

“I’m not renewing my lease,” you murmur against his kiss-swollen lips, a shy glance up to look him in his beautiful, brown eyes. “Figured I should look for a new place that isn’t littered with memories of that bastard.”

Kyle hums thoughtfully, trailing kisses along your cheek. “Plenty of room here.”

You click your tongue, laying a hand on his cheek to turn his face to look directly at you. “Kyle–”

“It’s not like that’s not where this was going anyway, right?” He gives you another chaste kiss and a cheeky smile. “You already have a key. Might as well–”

“Make it official?” you laugh.

“Exactly.”

You let out a long, exaggerated sigh with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “Fine, you’ve managed to convince me–”

You don’t get to finish, as Kyle cups your jaw and pulls you into another kiss.

January

After a long night of celebrating and congratulations from his teammates, Kyle’s girlfriend officially moves in the day after New Year’s.

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #mw fics #moth writes #tw: cheating #private

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beescrafting · 7 months ago

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ROACH I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!

@tempestdivine Just let me know if I'm @'ing you to much... I'll stop.

I swear I can stop anytime I want to...

Im having so much fun writing and drawing this man.. little funny doodles, and shit that is gonna happen... so silly.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #john soap mactavish #call of duty au #call of duty roach #call of duty fanart #doodles #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #private stuffins #You aren't My Lieutenant!#fanfiction art

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wendytestabrat · 1 year ago

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kyle acting like cartman’s wife for 2 minutes straight

#ok the first clip is sus af bc like they were both using soft voices and whispering and shit to hide the underlying romantic tension that #was going on between them in that moment and didn’t want the other kids to see LOL #but then once they’re in private kyle lets loose and yells at him abt why he’s pissed LOL #kyman #south park #DUMBASSCOMPILATIONS

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asteria7fics · 4 months ago

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“You know I don’t care for reds.”

#asteria’s art #kyle broflovski #this has been rotting in my procreate folder for like two months #its time to set it free #originally it was going to be the illustration for my next fic in the private chef au but #it doesn’t quite match the vibe I’m going for #so you guys can get a tease while I work on something new #I also forgot to adjust my canvas properly before starting in so #another point against Kyle and his sweet cheeks sorry king #rsb #remplir sa bouche

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gh0st-patr0l · 5 months ago

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More aew new years resolutions!

#daniel garcia #prince nana #jay lethal #private party #isiah kassidy #marq quen #kyle o'reilly #aew #all elite wrestling #everyone is great here but Kyle's makes me wanna cry. hes so fucking cutes bro

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mafiaamongstus · 9 months ago

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Hi Kyle!!! 👋👋👋

First off: Thank you so much for the squig drawing, it's beautiful. Jitil's photo may have been more """educational""", but yours has personality and love in it. If the military thing doesn't end up working out I can definitely see a future for you in the arts.

Alright, so the question that I actually came here to ask:

When you first started out on Polus were there any zany/funny/juicy rumors people told you about the folks higher up in the command chain? And if you have the liberty to tell us... Did any of them actually turn out to be true?

Private Kyle: I mean, I wouldn't want to go around spreading rumors about my coworkers, especially when they could end up going to just about anyone out there. I respect them far too much for that.

General Joris: What he means to say is that he's afraid of it getting back to the Commander that he was spreading rumors to the public.

Private Kyle: Tomato Tomahto

....

While Kyle can't tell you about any of the rumors, I certainly can out of character :D

Supposedly, Commander Olo once stood outside the base in the middle of a hailstorm for six hours because there was a rumor that the Imposters were about to attack.

They say that Chief Rouvan once killed a man. Not because he was rumored to be an Imposter, but because he'd told the Chief that he knew better than them. Those Snowmen littered around the base? they say his body was stuffed into one of those.

There's this big conspiracy that Commander Olo got replaced by a rogue imposter years ago, and is actually the only reason the war is even happening. People that believe this aren't very well liked, as you might imagine.

#among us #m!au #henry stickmin #mafia amongst us #worldbuilding #backstory #commander olo #private kyle #chief rouvan #general joric #ask answering #ask #ask response

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kayfabe-is-king · 8 months ago

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I have thoughts from last night's Dynamite and this is all within kayfabe. It's disjointed and patchy but that's because my mind has been going a mile a minute for the past week. So once again, welcome to my Ted Talk!

It was very fitting that Mox and Co. (are we still calling them the Blackpool Combat Club because that doesn't seem extreme enough at this point) attacked during the match between The Elite and The Conglomeration. That match showed in stark detail the very best and the very worst of what AEW has become. The Elite concerned more with glory and money (literal money raining down on Okada as he walks down to the ring) than about what is best for the company as a whole. And truthfully, they're coming off like a joke now in comparison to Moxley's Death Squad. Meanwhile, The Conglomeration was born of betrayal and people coming together because they a) love this sport and b) still believe in All Elite Wrestling. I lost track of the number of times Excalibur, Nigel or Tony alluded to Orange Cassidy being a leader.

“Why aren’t they coming to help?” Schiavone asked.

Because The Elite now represent exactly what Moxley is railing against - egos and fat paychecks. This new era is a direct response to The Elite's frankly laughable "take over" of AEW. Moxley watched them, said "hold my (non-alcoholic) beer" and then showed how you really take over a wrestling promotion.

During that horror movie trailer masquerading as a wrestling promo, Moxley mentioned all the wrestlers in the back not being given a chance while overblown egos are sitting atop the AEW food chain. This, to him, is a purpose... a cause. And if he has to hurt people to achieve said goal?

"It's the cost of doing business."

Thing is - Moxley's done this song and dance before. Remember this:

(credit to @softambrollins for the two gifs above)

Once again (much like with The Shield) in Moxley's mind, something he believed in has been corrupted. The difference is that now he has the power and the muscle behind him to do something about it. He feels like it's his moral obligation to stamp out the "corruption" that has infested AEW. Something he couldn't really do when The Shield fell apart. This is Moxley exorcising those ghosts... and you know, beating the shit out of people.

If you look at the people coming to The Conglomeration's aide last night, you'll see they have something in common. These are people in the back that haven't really been used properly in a while. Private Party, who really should have had a title run by now. The Dark Order, consistently being tossed around creative with no real direction since the death of Brodie Lee. Top Flight hasn't found it's groove even though they put on consistently great matches time and again (I did laugh my ass off when Action Andretti did that springboard from the ropes and Moxley was like "nah, bro" and clocked him in the back of the head).

And while Daniel Garcia has been given pushes lately, I don't think he's been properly and consistently booked until this angle (and if they don't take the belt off of Jack and give it to Danny, there's no justice in this world). I believe these choices were intentional. A way to pull people into a long running storyline that were floundering.

Even on the BCC's side, you have Marina Shafir - an excellent technical wrestler who AEW has batted around with no real direction. Moxley has said time and again how much he admires her, so of course he wanted her as a part of this angle. She is the perfect soldier - brutal, efficient and loyal. The look of devastation on her face when she was ejected from ringside at Wrestledream? That's the look of a dedicated soldier who has (in her mind) let down her commanding officer. She will go toe to toe against anyone who stands in Moxley's way. And am I the only one wondering about that key around her neck?

Here's something else to think about. Tony Schiavone has seen the attempted hostile takeover of a wrestling promotion before. He was ringside as the New World Order was born and watched their path of destruction in WCW. Imagine seeing history repeating itself and not being able to do anything about it. Even worse, imagine seeing history repeat itself... but worse. This is the nWo dialed to 11 and unencumbered by silly little things like laws against attempted murder.

Someone at commentary also asked where the belt was. It was never about the belt and Moxley purposely handed it off to Claudio for that very reason. He doesn’t care about the glory. He genuinely believes what he’s doing is what is necessary. And there is nothing more frightening than someone so fine with committing acts of brutality because they truly believe that is the only way.

Now we come to our most conflicted Moxley disciple. And if you don't think he's still very much conflicted, you haven't been paying attention. Wheeler using the Busaiku Knee on Orange Cassidy while dressed like Bryan was intentional. Sure, he may have drunk the new BCC’s kool aid, but he still very much respects Bryan. He saw what he did to Bryan at Wrestldream as mercy (whether or not you agree, it's still how he saw his actions). To him, he finally put Bryan to "rest" and now feels it is his responsibility to continue Bryan’s legacy.

And that is where him and Daniel Garcia will clash in glorious battle. They are the ying and yang to each other - both love this sport and both see Bryan as their hero. One is just following the darker path that William Regal himself has laid for the likes of Moxley. While the other one believes in Bryan's way. They are the next generation of the power struggle between Bryan and Moxley - their proxies if you will. This is the most elaborate game of Risk come to life.

youtube

I have seen some people say this new storyline is "going too far". I get it - it's hardcore and some people didn't grow up watching ECW. They may not know that Terry Funk did the plastic bag spot long before they were even born. But I vividly remember those days (I was ringside for some of them - Terry Funk is hands down one of the nicest wrestlers I've ever met). And I for one, love where all of this is going. I watched the nWo from its rise to its demise and this new paradigm shift blows it out of the water. This is the evolution of that iconic angle and they picked the perfect people to do it.

Side note - shout out to Renee for consistently doing her job with a high level of professionalism. And also pretending like her husband isn't committing attempted murder every week. Imagine how awkward it's been for her around the water cooler lately.

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sp-growingpains · 6 months ago

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With the year coming to an end, it's nice to take a look at how far I've come

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littlemagicalstardust · 8 months ago

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Just some of the AEW Faces waiting in the parking lot for the BCC. Orange, Rocky & Kyle are kind of hiding a little behind. Theres also a few others on the left and right sides of this photo, not seen. Things continue to get interesting in AEW!

#aew #aew dynamite #my screenshots #parking lot #freshly squeezed #orange cassidy #kyle o'reilly #rocky romero #mark briscoe #daniel garcia #john silver #evil uno #alex reynolds #private party #top flight

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victusinveritas · 2 months ago

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I read this comment on an official SNL Facebook post plugging Jack Black's opening monologue for this past weekend's episode, it skips commentary on Jack Black tossing Kyle Gass under the bus in favor of Disney and other industry contracts:

"Let’s cut through the noise. Trillions of taxpayer dollars are stolen under the guise of "defense" while fire departments are underfunded, schools crumble, and families in Flint, East Palestine, and Maui are left to fend for themselves. Your hard-earned wages aren't paying for clean water or disaster relief-they're funding bombs dropped on innocent families in Gaza, Yemen, and beyond. This isn't just negligence; it's calculated theft and genocide, driven by a government that prioritizes corporate profits over human lives.

Los Angeles burns, and instead of sending aid, the government sent ICE agents.

Prisoners are paid pennies to fight wildfires while billionaires profit and corporations like State Farm abandon communities. This is modern slavery, legalized through loopholes that exploit Black and brown bodies for labor. The same system that exploits prisoners is the one funding mass murder abroad. It's all connected-the suffering here and the destruction overseas.

The media won't tell you the full story.

They'll show you the aftermath of these crises but never the cause: a government and corporate elite who have given themselves the license to kill, steal, and victimize on a global scale. Dr. King warned, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." The same system that starves Gaza abandons American communities, and they rely on your silence to keep the machine running.

It's time to snap out of it. The politicians and CEOs aren't working for you; they're working for themselves. Stop fighting your neighbors and start fighting the system exploiting all of us. Demand accountability.

Speak out. Fight back. Because if we don't, the theft, the genocide, and the destruction will never end."

#us politics #trump regime #bait and switch #jack black #fuck jack black #fuckin coward and such #kyle gass is goddamn great #christofascists #antifascist #gaza genocide #america is being stripped for parts #and that's bad #especially while we're just happily funding genocides and dictatorships around the world #and private prisons #and all of that shit #facebook comments #saturday night live #leftism #leftist infighting

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halfmoth-halfman · 2 years ago

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a little small talk, a smile, and baby i was stuck

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Medic!Reader Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: fluff, medical inaccuracies, bruises, kinda hurt/comfort, gaz's helicopter curse Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters.

When Soap mentions the new medic, Gaz doesn’t think much of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t care; he’s just too preoccupied thinking about the upcoming mission to give it any real thought.

That is until Price sends him to retrieve a folder from the infirmary, and he quite literally runs into you. It’s neither of your faults; he’d been walking in just as you were leaving.

It’s a cosmically comical series of events.

You stumble back, rushing out apologies when your foot catches on his, and you nearly fall back into the infirmary. Gaz is quick to react, grabbing you by the waist to keep you from falling and pulling you back up to your feet with a strength you don’t expect.

You’re left staring at the face of this handsome stranger, your hands braced on his chest and his gripping tightly onto your hips.

A beat of silence as the two of you regard each other before a smile breaks across your face, laughter spilling out of you, and Gaz is immediately taken with you.

Your hands leave his chest, and he loosens his hold on you enough for you to step back and put some space between you. It takes a minute for you to compose yourself, your laughter dying down into tiny giggles. You extend your hand, giving your name and a stunning smile.

“Um, hi,” he smiles back, shaking your hand. “Gaz. Or Kyle. Either works; it’s whatever you prefer. Most people call me Gaz, though...but Kyle’s fine, too!”

A single smile, and you’ve got him stumbling over himself like a teenager.

He’s thankful you’ve stepped back from him. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you felt the way his heart hammers against his ribcage.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Gaz, and/or Kyle,” you laugh, giving him a teasing wink.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, you too.”

“And thanks for the save–” You step around him, his honey-brown gaze following your every step. “–I’ll see you around?”

God, he hopes so.

“Yeah, see you around,” he nods. You give him one last glimpse of that beautiful smile before turning on your heel and disappearing down the hallway.

Gaz stands outside the infirmary for an extra five minutes, staring in the direction you’d gone, a hopeless smile on his lips.

The doors click open, another medic stepping out and staring curiously at the soldier standing before him.

“Sergeant Garrick?”

Gaz snaps out of his trance.

The folder. Right.

Gaz finds every excuse he can to go to the infirmary.

He’s the first to volunteer if Price needs something from one of the medics. He lets Ghost get in a few extra hits during training. He’s even started to look forward to those pesky migraines he gets every few weeks.

He’s sure the others have started to notice. They don’t say anything, but he’s caught the small, knowing smile on Price’s face every time he returns a few minutes late from the infirmary.

The other medics are starting to catch on, too, he thinks. They’re always strangely absent whenever he shows up, suddenly busy with something on the other side of the room.

He can’t find it in himself to care, though. Not when he walks into the infirmary and sees your gorgeous smile as you cheerfully greet him.

“Price need something again?” you ask, smile dipping in a small frown when Gaz shakes his head. He holds up his hand, showing off his bruised and slightly swollen knuckles.

“Missed a throw during training,” he sighs, mouth tugging into a sheepish half-smile. “Got any ice?”

“Sit down.” He sits on the closest chair, watching you shift into doctor mode. You’re a good medic, you take your job seriously no matter how little the injury, and you seem to genuinely care about your patients. It’s one of the things Gaz lov–likes about you.

You pull up a stool, sitting close enough for your knees to touch as you examine his hand. Your soft, efficient fingers turn his hand this way and that, lightly pressing against the bruises on his knuckles.

“How’s the pain, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Barely a two.”

“Can you make a fist?”

He does, and you let out a quiet hum.

“Wiggle your fingers.”

“You want me to pat my head and rub my stomach next?” he jokes, moving his fingers. You pinch his hand, eyes flicking up to give him an annoyed look, but he can see how the corners of your mouth twitch up.

“Nothing looks broken or sprained,” you explain, sliding away from him to fetch some cream and gauze. “I’ll wrap it, but you should take it easy for a day or two and let the swelling go down. Come back if it doesn’t or if the pain starts to get worse.”

Gaz nods as you sit back down and get to work on his hand. He tries not to shiver at your gentle touch as you treat him, praying you don’t notice the gooseflesh that appears whenever you touch him.

“Sure thing, Doc.”

He lets you work in silence, content to watch you.

He wonders if you know your nose scrunches when you’re trying to focus.

“All done,” you say, smiling proudly at him while he examines your handiwork.

Gaz flexes his hand, the bandages not too tight, and hums in satisfaction. “Not bad, Doc.”

“Not bad?” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. He chuckles, a surge of confidence as he meets your eyes with a genuine and thankful smile.

“It’s perfect. You’re the best medic in the entire world. I am eternally grateful.”

“That’s what I thought.” You both know he’s teasing, but Gaz can see the way you straighten just a little bit more, your smile growing a little bit wider. “Now get back to work, and try to be more careful. For my sake.”

Gaz stands as you begin to clean up.

“If I was careful, you wouldn’t see me as much.” He’s teasing, but you freeze, your back to him as you finish washing your hands.

He hopes he hasn’t overstepped.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh, turning to him with that same beautiful smile. “I’d miss you too much.”

He doesn’t get to reply as you’re called away by another medic, but he's positively beaming for the rest of the day.

Three months.

They’re estimated to be gone for three months, at least.

That’s three months away from base, away from you. After seeing you nearly every day, Gaz isn’t sure he’ll be able to handle being away from you for so long.

There’s nothing between you two, not officially, anyway. He knows he has no right to worry about you–about being away from you–when he hasn’t even properly asked you out.

You aren’t his…yet.

Anyone with a working set of eyes can see how you smile and laugh and flirt whenever you talk to him. He’s noticed how your gaze lingers on him when you think he isn’t looking or how you always find a reason to touch him whenever you’re near.

He’s at least ninety-six percent sure you'd say yes if he asked you out. He just has to gather the courage and do it before he has to leave.

His nerves get to him every time, and it isn’t until they’re four days out from departure that Soap decides he’s had enough and drags him to your office.

“Yer not leavin’ until ye ask them to dinner,” Soap huffs, knocking on the door before Gaz can stop him.

“Are you out of your–”

“Hello?” Your door opens a few inches, and you stare curiously at the two sergeants in front of your door.

“Doc!” Soap beams, putting his hands on Gaz’s shoulders to push him toward you. “Gaz has a question for ye!” He gives Gaz a good clap on the back before turning on his heel and leaving.

“Do I want to ask?” You blink at Gaz, one brow raised.

“Probably not,” he sighs. You stare for a moment, eyes bouncing around his face as you take in the small bags beginning under his eyes and tense shoulders.

“You want to come in?” you ask, stepping back to open your door further. Gaz nods, and you allow him into your office, closing the door behind him.

He sits in one of the chairs in front of your desk, unusually silent. He stares at your desk, something heavy weighing on his mind.

“Everything okay?” you ask softly, taking the seat next to him and placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“We’re leaving in a few days,” he mutters, frown pulling at his handsome face.

You swallow around the knot in your throat, “I know.”

“We’ll be gone for a while.”

“I know.”

“Do you–would you–” Gaz groans, leaning back in the chair and scrubbing his hands down his face.

Why is this so hard?

“Kyle?”

Gaz sighs, hands falling into his lap as he stares up at the white ceiling of your office. He peers at you through the corner of his eyes, heart aching at the worry and concern on your face.

“You’ll be here when we get back, yeah?”

“Of course, I’m not going anywhere,” you answer instantly. “Just–”

You stop yourself, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. Your gaze drops down to your lap, where your fingers twist and fidget with the ends of your sleeves. Gaz straightens in his chair, hands flexing as he debates whether or not to reach out to you.

He doesn’t, frozen to the spot when you look up and meet his gaze with watery eyes.

“Just promise you’ll come back in one piece.”

He shouldn’t. You both know that. It’s a chance he takes any time he steps off base; there’s no guarantee he’ll come back.

He won't make you a promise he doesn’t know if he can keep.

Gaz takes your hands in his, squeezing softly, pouring as much assurance as he can into the gesture.

“I’ll do my best.”

You choke out a laugh, a few tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You better.”

Gaz wakes up to the heavy smell of disinfectant and the steady beeping of a heart monitor.

It takes a minute for everything to come back to him. He remembers the gunfire, trying to get on the helicopter, Price yelling orders in his ear. They were in the air, and then an impact, and then…

They crashed.

He shifts, his entire body aching, bones groaning in protest. He groans at the pain, trying to swallow down the hurt.

“Gonna undo all their hard work if you keep doing that.”

Gaz turns his head to the right, finding Price sitting next to him in one of the infirmary chairs. He’s not looking at Gaz, busy filling out paperwork instead.

“Where’s–”

Price shushes him, nodding his head to Gaz’s other side. Gaz follows, his breath hitching when he finds you curled up in another chair, fully asleep and using a folded jacket as a pillow.

The heart monitor beeps with the skip of his heart, and Price chuckles quietly.

“Is that your jacket, sir?” Gaz asks, trying not to bring any more attention to the obvious.

“It’s yours. Gave it to them to help calm them down.” Price glances up at him, a knowing smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

Gaz opens his mouth to speak, but you groan softly, shifting in the chair before your eyes blink open. Your brow furrows as your gaze travels up his body and lands on his face, where you finally meet his eyes.

Gaz watches you process before you’re out of the chair, checking over every inch of him and firing off question after question.

“It’s okay. I’m alright,” he laughs, ignoring the ache as he lifts his arm to softly press his hand to your cheek. “I’m here, love.”

“You–” Tears stream down your cheeks, and Gaz wipes them away with his thumb. “You absolute bastard! I thought you were–”

You don’t say it. You can’t say it.

Instead, you lean forward and bury your face in his neck, careful not to tug on any of the IV chords.

Gaz whispers soft comforts into your ears, lighting kneading at the base of your skull as he lets you cry into his shoulder. Price gives him a look, a silent question if he’s alright. Gaz nods, and Price stands to take his leave and give you two a moment alone.

You cry yourself out, pulling away and furiously wiping at your cheeks. “Don’t ever do that to me again, Kyle.”

Gaz laughs, soft and affectionate, “I came back in one piece, right?”

“You–” You’re trying to be mad, but he sees the smile you’re trying to bite back.

“I know, I’m the worst,” he grins. “Promise to make it up to you, though. How’s dinner sound?”

“I think you at least owe me dinner and a movie,” you joke, voice thick with emotion.

There’s that lovely smile.

“Dinner and a movie. Done.”

“And breakfast.”

“Moving a little fast there, sweetheart.”

You huff, folding your arms over your chest. “You’ve got three months’ worth of dates to make up for.”

“Fair enough.”

Despite the dull pain that vibrates across his body, Gaz smiles as he traces a hand along your jaw and pulls you forward into a sweet kiss.

A soft knock at your office door interrupts your focus on the paperwork spread out over your desk.

“Have you got a minute?” your husband asks, peeking his head in through the door.

“For you? Always,” you grin, happily abandoning your paperwork as Gaz walks in, closing the door behind him.

You meet him halfway, arms winding around his neck to greet him with a kiss.

“Wanted to stop by before we have to head out,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling you back in for another kiss.

Three years later, and he can’t help but fall in love with you every time he sees you.

“How long will you be gone this time?” you ask, pulling away to settle your head in the crook of his neck.

“A month, maybe two.”

You sigh, warm breath fanning across the skin of his neck. Gaz hums, taking your left hand in his to press a kiss to the ring on your finger.

“Promise you’ll come back in one piece,” you whisper softly, looking up at him with a teasing smile. Gaz chuckles, turning your hand over to glide his lips over your palm to the pulse in your wrist.

“I’ll do my best.”

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth writes #private

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