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angelsworks · 3 months

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Goldilocks and the Four Bears

I haven’t written for the cod fandom yet so all the 141 might be terribly out of character. In fact I haven’t written for a while. I appreciate all the people that still read my work and continue to support me. I hope you’re all doing well :)

Poly!141 x reader

Masterlist -> Here (will be made later :))

Warnings: 18+, mature themes, descriptions of torture, injuries and mistreatment, etc

Summary: After escaping from your last mission that had gone terribly wrong, your stumble through the woods leads you to a log cabin.

It was snowing. Fucking snowing.

Any belief in a deity had been long since crushed after the last few months. Well you thought it had been months. Your captors (a small but deadly terrorist group) had failed to provide you with your own calendar and clock. Much like how they had failed to provide you with new clothes to replace your own, that had been ripped and torn and become tattered to the eye.

It was stolen clothes you now wore as you made your escape. Trudging slowly through the already six inch snow, your thoughts trailed to the fresh snow adding to the existing six inches. The size 12 pair of boots were rubbing at your heels with increasing vigour. Leading you to contemplate if bruised skin could blister or not. The guard you’d killed as part of your escape had been good for one thing. Or three things actually. The ill-fitting boots, a loose pair of combat trousers and long sleeved compression shirt.

As you made your way through the terrain you felt a cold chill steadily working it’s way up your trouser leg. Slowly, spreading across the flesh, affecting any skin that wasn’t in direct contact with the trouser material. It made you wish you’d waited for a guard more similar to your stature. While the compression shirt was better than nothing, it was still thin. The flimsy seeming material now doing little to ward off the cold.

Maybe the sudden awareness of the less than ideal weather conditions wasn’t down to your stolen clothes, but the sudden loss of adrenaline. How long had you been running now? Well trudging desperately through the snow, making your way further and further into the thick forrest and fauna.

It was hard to try and map where you’d been, what direction you’d walked in and where you’d come from. It was all white. Every tree looked the same. Every incline became and decline and you’d become disoriented.

Months of abuse, of torture, ofpain. All ignored for a few short hours as you willed your aching body forward. Through trees and snow and stone. Through anything that would put you at a greater distance from them, from Miasma.

They hadn’t transported you. At least you were mostly sure. When you blacked out, you woke in the same dingy cell, on the same dingy floor. Only covered in more bruises or cuts. So you hoped you were where this all started. In Slovenia.

You’d done solo missions before. It was easier that way. One man in, one man out. No one to turn on you or leak information. With Gunner in your ear, nothing ever went wrong. Until it did.

Your objective was to gather intel. To stay under the radar before formulating the next attack. While sneaking around you’d learned just how large their operation was. In turn you’d also learned just how large their base was.

The small outpost hid underground levels. That became clear after your covert operation was blown and you were dragged down to the very heart of the multi-storey building.

Each day (if that’s what you could call them) gave you no indication of the time of day or how much time had passed. They made sure of that. In fact it was the first time in months you’d seen the light of day.

The light that you noticed was now fading apparently, as you looked desperately up into the sky. Grey clouds had rolled in, covering the majority of the sky. The sun was still peaking out from the dense overcast that was rolling further forward. Soon the sky would be covered and the snow fall would quicken.

A few miles back you were struck that no one from Miasma had followed you. You’d expected armed guards to be shooting at you and angry dogs to be tearing at your ankles. Yet you’d had no chase.

Maybe they knew you would get nowhere in the climate. That you’d be weakened by the terrain and from the violence you’d endured. They were right of course. But you didn’t let it stop you.

Even now as you’d gone further, you still felt the burning desire to survive. Granted it dwindled under the ache of your body and the never ending valley of white before you. But you wanted to live. You wanted your revenge.

The final rays of the sun had been clouded and the snow started to pick up. At least your footprints would be covered under the fresh snow. Not that it mattered if all your footprints lead to was a frozen corpse.

Flexing your fingers, you found yourself wishing for gloves. Your toes were long past numb and every injury you’d endured felt like it was waking up. Old cuts that had turned to scars felt fresh, bruises that had yellowed felt like they’d returned to their starting purple colour. Your felt heavy. You felt dense. You felt tired.

Your desire to drive on had dwindled now. The once raging fire was now only a candle. A candle that was down to its wick. The wax around it long since melted and now it was to its edge. Trying to burn the glue that chained it in place. The image made you crave warmth even more.

Was this it?

All the work you’d put in over the years. From a child you had trained for a mission you didn’t fully understand. A mission that belonged to someone else, to Gunner. He’d turned you into a soldier, his perfect soldier.

Is this how his perfect soldier died?

No it wasn’t.

So despite your blue fingers, numb toes and foggy mind, you push on. Just a little further, you tell yourself. Past these trees, past this stream, past more trees.

Your doubts evaporate when you come upon a clearing. You find a decent space boarded by snow dusted trees from all sides. They stand tall, seemingly acting as natural walls to protect those inside. The grass is covered in undisturbed snow. It’s thick and white and makes you smile.

None of it matter though because sitting in the middle of it all if your salvation.

A log cabin.

You consider the sight to be a mirage. Created from and low blood sugar, dehydration and desperation. But you trudge on, almost to a stumble speed, as you reach for the door handle.

It’s unlocked.

Despite any moral compass telling you that breaking and entering or trespassing is wrong, you ignore it. You’re hurt, aching and this is a last resort.

You close the thick wooden door behind you. Taking note of the copious locks it has. When you move inside the cabin you find that no one’s home. As quietly as you can on stiff legs, you sneak around the house. Trying to wake up the instincts you’d been trained on.

Enter a room, check your surroundings, check again. Don’t assume anywhere is empty. Threats could be hiding around any corner.

So for each room of the ground floor you do just that. Open door, check the rooms, move on. From your searching you’ve found a large living room, a kitchen, a dining room, a toilet some sort of office/drawing room. The decor gives you no clue as to who’s house you’ve invaded. There are no pictures of people, no personal possessions. It feels surreal. And wrong.

To start with you go back to the living room. Using the large fireplace, stockpile of logs and matches, you start a fire.

Again, better sense would tell you to avoid such an action. To avoid alerting anyone of your presence here. But you decide to put sense aside in a bid for survival. If you didn’t get warm soon you were sure you’d be frozen soon.

Next you go to the kitchen. You rifle through the cupboard in an attempt to find something edible. To your surprise you find the place to be well stocked. Even going as far as having fresh milk in the fridge. The sight confuses you. Send alarm bells ringing in your ears.

There are products in the fridge that are in date. Fresh products. Yet no one is home. It doesn’t make sense.

As you empty a can of soup into a pan you realise, it doesn’t need to. You’re happy to play stupid and see this as all some sort of blessing, some miracle.

While the soup cooks you fill a glass with clean, cold water. Relishing in the taste of something fresh. When you’ve downed the first glass you refill it again. This time with an intention to make it last longer.

After the first spoonful you find that you like vegetable soup very much. Almost burning your mouth as you devour it in a few minutes. Immediately it feels as though you’ve been recharged. The warmth from the fire has spread throughout the ground floor, your fingers have warmed around the bowl of soup and your body no longer feels related to a glacier.

The sky only darkens as you sit by the fire. Basking in the warmth and taking a moment to rest for the first time in months. You don’t imagine ever leaving your spot on the floor. But the promise of a bed upstairs has you moving your legs in that direction.

Before your ascent to the second floor, you strip your clothes and hang them on a drying rack you found to the side of the fire. Now left in the nude.

Upstairs you find multiple bedrooms. All almost identical, except for one at the end of the hall. You assume this is the Cabin’s master bedroom as it’s slightly larger than the others. Inside there’s a wardrobe full of clothes, a full length mirror, a TV, some sort of game station, and of course the larger than most bed.

In the mirror you catch sight of yourself. The cuts of course stand out first. From the slight turn you can muster in your neck, you can see large welts and thin cuts, bruises and scrapes, all littering the previously plain skin. From the front and behind, your legs look like a Jackson Pollock original piece.

Capturing various purple and blues surrounded by smaller splodges of green and brown. With the occasional black blob or two to really contrast the overall tone of the piece.

As a child you had a strange infatuation with your bruises. Likening them to a sticker or badge of achievement. They were easy to come by during training. A strange part of you liked the way they looked on your skin. They acted as a log book of the hits you’d taken, the falls you’d taken, any sort of impacts you’d had. They made you feel strong, maybe even proud too.

Staring into the mirror at your body again, it all seems worthless. You knew you were strong before. You didn’t need months as a prisoner to prove it.

You take a few steps forward to properly look at your face. Who stares back must be a stranger. You haven’t let your eyebrows be this out of shape since you were thirteen. You didn’t have that scar above under your chin before. Your eyes were always so bright and vivid. Not lifeless or hollow or so lost.

With newfound energy you take yourself to the nearest bathroom. That just so happens to be the en-suite in the bedroom. It doesn’t surprise you. Nothing about this abandoned, well stocked cabin does anymore.

Instead you shower in one of the nicest bathrooms you’ve been to in a long time.

At first the water has you freezing. Not due to the temperature but because of the fire it lights on your back. Every scrape, every cut, every burn now being cleaned. The cleanse sets your body alight. In a way you feel the heat is helping you to heal. Granted, all you have to show for it is a mixture of blood and grime, floating slowly down the drain. But it’s more than that.

It’s the last few months being scrubbed off your skin. Your wounds and ailments being shown that this is the end. They can heal in peace. You can heal in peace.

So you take your time. Using any products you can find; shampoos, conditioners, body wash, face wash. You’ve acquired a new razor, fresh from the packet. It’s amazing what a difference shaving your legs and various other places can do to your mood. You’ve always preferred removing the body hair. Afterwards the feeling of smooth legs under a thick duvet made all the work worth it.

The final step, bar drying yourself, was brushing tour yellowing and plaque ridden teeth. The minty taste in your mouth feels unfamiliar but it welcomed nonetheless. Wiping your tongue across the now almost pearly-whites you’re happy with how smooth they feel.

Now showered, shaved and dried, you make you way into the bedroom. Finding the wardrobe and drawers to be filled wit strictly masculine clothes. You pick out a pair of boxers and one of the large white t-shirts to sleep in. The shirt dwarfs you in size, looking more like a dress. Not one that you would wear outside though. Not with the black boxers showering through the material, or your hardened nipples making an appearance.

With your towel back in the bathroom and the lights off, you crawl into bed. Letting out the loudest sigh your sore throat could muster. Then quickly falling asleep on the linen.

It was snowing. In fact it was a fucking blizzard.

A barrage of white, dagger-like snowflakes pelted against the four men. The lack of light and the dense haze of the storm made it impossible to see where they were going. They were all thankful for the less than modern compass. Hidden away at the bottom of Jonny’s bag. When he acquired it was unknown. But the four were grateful nonetheless that the Scott had the dated equipment in is kit.

After their week long training they were ready to fall asleep on the nearest surface. The blizzard they now faced was an unexpected one. Nothing on Price’s radar Gad alerted them to such a storm.

They’d just finished their survival training in the mountains when the first snowflake formed. During the rest of their descent it had only worsened.

As the snow around them thickened they trudged on. Becoming more aware of the weight of their kit, ache of their muscles and chill in their bones. These men were tired, hungry and cold.

After more miles and more words of encouragement from Price, Gaz was sure they were close to the safe house now.

Laswell had been kind enough to let them use the safe house after a particularly gruelling training exercise. It would be the closest thing to a holiday the 141 would get this year. Before the worst of the storm it had the Scotsman joking that he would build a snowman outside. An idea quickly shot down by Ghost in the interest of remaining vigilant to an enemies surrounding the house.

While snowmen were out of the question, snowballs were not. Something Ghost found out, twice, in the back of the head. Turning to see an innocent looking Gaz and Soap.

“You’ll regret that when we’re back on base and you two are on shit duty” the balaclava wearing Brit grumbles.

Soap sighs dramatically, “Oh come on Lt. Dinnae be like that, it was only a joke”.

The threat prompts Kyle to add, “It was all Soaps idea, think he should get shit duties on his own.”

Soap gasps feigning offence, “You bleeding clipe, don’t come knocking on my door when you want someone to warm your bed tonight.”

The comment causes the younger man’s face to heat up and laughs to come from the others.

“That if we get there in this blizzard” the captain quips. Trying to keep morale, but refusing to ignore the sinking feeling that they’ve missed the safe house completely.

“How far now?” Gaz asks, determined not to start pestering like an insolent child. Yet equally determined to have a proper meal and get out of his cold clothes.

“Two klicks north, then we should be there.” Soap tells him, loud enough for the others to hear in the now whipping winds.

“It was two klicks north last time someone asked Soap, are you sure you’re reading that right lad?” Price finds himself asking. Despite his rank, his military expertise and all his training agains the elements, it doesn’t make him immune to the cold. Immune to looking forward to sitting by a fire with a cup of tea in his hands.

Laswell wasn’t one to be stingy with safe house stock. From previous safe houses he’d been to that she had set up, they’d been a home away from home. Proper bedrooms, running water, stocked shelves. Price found himself ready to welcome anything that had four walls, a roof and could shelter him and his men from the storm.

“Two klicks north Captain, I’m sure”. Jonny confirms.

Sure enough, through the dense curtain of blizzard, light emerges. A gentle glow against the black nights sky. The closer they get, the clearer the house becomes.

A log cabin.

A big one at that. The sight is inviting enough to bring a smile to the men’s faces.

“Laswell’s outdone herself this time, fuckin yaldy” soap practically exclaims. Pushing forward to the front of the pack, in an effort to get in first.

“Hold it Jonny,” Simons voice is quiet through the mask, but harsh enough that the others can hear.

Ghost points to the chimney, “someone’s here”.

Sure enough as the others look up, they too see the plumes of smoke, gently rising from the brick chimney.

“Another team captain?” Gaz finds himself asking, while reaching for the know hidden in his thigh holster.

Price finds himself doing the same, “No, we’re the only ones in the country.”

The tension in the air is thick, rivals the thick snow pelting down on them. The four of them stand motionless, a short distance from the front door. Covered head to toe in winter gear, a layer of the snowstorm attached to anything it can stick to.

“Right, there’s only one door. I’ll lead. We’ll secure the ground floor first. Stay silent, we do this quietly.” Price commands. The men nod, moving to grasp their various knives. Following their captain as he moves to the front of the cabin.

With an almost inaudible creek, Price turns the handle of the door. Pushing the oak forward, grateful that it seems to glide over the wooden floors. Allowing him and his men to breach the property without alerting its inhabitants.

Price enters the living room first, signalling for the others to spread out and search the rest of the floor. He does indeed find a crackling fire, yet no one man’s it. The warmth is welcomed, but for the time being he ignores any desire to sit near it and warm himself.

His attention moves to the drying rack set up beside the fire. Upon further inspection of the items he finds combat trousers, a compression t shirt and a pair of large boots, size 12 he gathers from the label on the tongue. The clothes are still damp to the touch, leading him to infer that the intruder arrived a short time ago.

The badge on the arm of the shirt catches his eye. He rips it off the Velcro and examines it up close. An unknown insignia, contractor perhaps? Some new found terrorist group? Price doesn’t know. It’s not one he’s come across before.

Simon searches the kitchen. The space is a decent size, dark too. He blends into the shadows as he checks the space for any sign of life. He finds a empty soup can on one of the worktops. Turning to the sink he notices a single glass and pan siting there.

Once finished in his search he creeps back to the living room. Finding his captain there, along with a stoic looking soap and serious looking Gaz.

Price raises his hand to Simon, showcasing the fabric insignia to him. With cold eyes Ghost runs over the stitchwork. Mind running through the possible groups it could be associated with.

“Any ideas?” Price asks in a hushed voice.

Ghosts silence is a loud enough answer for the group. No

“Whoever they are haven’t been here long. Their clothes are still damp. Large boots, size 12.” Price goes through the details he’s uncovered.

“Men’s?” Gaz asks.

“Most likely”.

“There’s a pan in the kitchen. They’ve had soup. Only one glass.” Ghost reels off.

“We don’t know who we’re dealing with, could be anyone. Stay vigilant. Be prepared for a fight. I’ll take the lead upstairs. Shout if you find anything.” Price commands.

The team follow him single file up the stairs. Weapons at the ready as the sneak up the steps. Footsteps light on the wooden floor.

Price takes the first door, Gaz the second, Ghost the third and Soap the last door at the end of the hallway.

While three of the 141 find their rooms to be empty, Soap stops in the doorway. After almost silently twisting the door handle and letting it slide open, he stands in silence. What he didn’t expect to find was a girl sleep in the master bed, a pretty girl to be exact.

The Scotsman finds himself lost for words. He expected to have to fight someone of his stature. Maybe larger. He expected to walk away with a bruise or two. He feels lost on what to do. Should he wake her? Should he leave her?

Meanwhile the others have gathered in the hallway. Sharing a concerned glance at their teammate.

“What is it soap?” Ghost asked quietly.

“It’s a lass. A bonnie lass at that.” He tells them. Wonder in his tone as he stares at the sleeping girl. Watching as her chest rises and falls at a steady rate. Completely unaware of the four men that have entered the house.

The men collectively frown, walking further to investigate themselves. Sure enough, after they pass the threshold of the master bedroom, they too stand frozen. A girl. Not a man, or group of men. A girl, sleeping in their bed, in their log cabin.

Completely unaware.

#angelsworks post #dark #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod men #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod mw3 #soap cod #cod gaz #cod price #cod kyle gaz garrick #cod simon riley #cod john mactavish #cod john price #poly!141 x reader #poly!141 #dark!141

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codmw2019-2022 · 3 months

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Modern Warfare Character Ages [2019 + 22]

Preface: Just wanted to add before getting into this that this is my interpretation of the character ages based on information from the games, confirmed information, research into the military/CIA and collage/university course information. This is by no means meant to be a definite statement about character ages, I'm happy to discuss or change any of the information here within reason.

I would also like to credit @sleepyconfusedpotato and @oleworldblues posts with their own opinions on the character ages. Which helped base my own thoughts and provided some good information that they had found. You can find Sleepy's post here and Blue's here they are really good posts and they both explain their own reasons for how they perceive the main cast of modern warfare's ages.

Farah & Hadir Karim : 30 & 32 [2022]

Both Farah and Hadir's ages have been confirmed by Taylor Kurosaki who is one of the writers from Modern Warfare 2019. This was confirmed when a fan ask him via twitter/X about how old Farah was during the Barkov invasion.

This means in 1999 when Barkov invaded Farah was 7 and Hadir was 9. In 2009 when they escaped they are 17 and 19 respectively and in 2019 they are 27 and 29. Hadir dies in December of 2022 as discovered in the Atomgrad raids at the age of 32.

John Price : 37 [2022]

Using the information provided from his original operator bio we find that "John Price joined the infantry at the age of sixteen and has served the British Army for 18 years." and that "he was ‘Badged’ a member of SAS in 2005, spending the next ten years in the Middle East, the horn of Africa.".

With this Price's age works out to be about 34 years old, but since it only mentions serving the British army. I added 4 years for him to be able to complete basic training which is roughly 18 weeks basic training.* Followed by Special Air Service (SAS) training with is roughly a couple months, but you must serve at least 18 months in the military to be selected**, and finally his training at the Royal Military Academy to become a Lieutenant and then Captain which is 44 weeks with 2-3 weeks of leave.***

So Price would join the British army at 16 in 2001, be badged a member of SAS at 20 in 2005, become Captain at 25 in 2010. In 2019 he would be 34 and finally 37 in 2022, which to me makes the most sense based on other character's ages.

*[army.mod.uk solider training] **[eliteukforces.info SAS] [eliteukforces.info SBS&SAS] ***[army.mod.uk officer training]

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick : 32 [2022]

We can do the same process as we did with Price for Gaz, his operator bio says "Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, enlisted in the British Army in 2008. Within four years, he passed selection for Her Majesty’s elite Special Air Service where he is currently rounding out a decade of service."

Since his bio never mentions what age he joins like with Price and Soap I'm going to assume he finished school and joined the military at 18. So Gaz is 18 in 2008, 29 in 2019 when he meets Price for the first time and 32 in 2022. I am not taking into consideration the archived Activision blog posts, which say he joined in 2014 because of them being archived. I do use it for some other characters but for Gaz it changed the date he joined not just giving extra information.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish : 26 [2022]

You can blame Activision for why Soap is so young compared to the others. So according to his updated operator bio, "Soap has spent the last seven years carrying out both covert and overt operations around the world." this with the contents of his old operator bio before MW3 "At 16, too young to sign up, but lying about his age, MacTavish enrolled in the Special Air Service…"

Means that Soap would be 23 in 2022, which doesn't make the most sense especially considering he is a Sergeant in 2019 meaning he would be 20 in the MW3 flashback. So I gave him the same treatment as Price and added 3 years, to make up for basic and SAS training. So he would be 16 in 2012 joining the British Army have to wait 18 months to apply for SAS, be roughly 18 when he starts SAS training and finish it at 19 in 2015.*

So making him now 23 in 2019, 26 in 2022 but since he lied about his age TF 141 would think he's 28 during MW2 or 25 during 2019.

*[jobs.army.mod.uk SAS reserve]

Alex Keller : 35 [2022]

Alex is one of the last characters who have dates or years of service in their information. From his Campaign Biography it says he was a part of, "CIA's Special Activities Division," and also has surrendered "his former rank and history of special ops military service with Army Delta, Alex sacrificed traditional contact and association with family to join the SAD. He has spent the last six years living a series of assumed identities to achieve “sensitive” objectives wherever he is needed."

There's also, "Through 2017, Alex’s units played a key role in ensuring definitive victories against emerging terrorist networks." So we know Alex has been working in the military before 2017, now most SAD members are former Delta operators. There's also some reports of SAD members having Master's and law degrees.* So with that we can add roughly 6 years to his age to complete a master's degree in law.**

Now Delta force has some requirements like being over 21 to join and having two and a half years of service remaining, so if Alex joined the US military at 18 after finishing High School and getting his diploma.*** In a couple years he could join Delta Force, so by 26 he would be able to be apart of CIA's SAD. (If studying part time while in Delta Force) Then adding the another six years which is when he is apart of SAD, which is mention in his biography as the last six years. The bio is published late 2019 so Alex would be 32 years old.

So Alex would join the Military at 18 in 2005, would be 32 in 2019 when he loses the lower half of one of his legs and 35 in 2022.

*[CIA SAD] **[coursera.org law school] ***[Delta Force] [US Military Requirements]

Now for the Characters with little infomation

Alejandro & Rodolfo : both 37

We find out they've known each other for 20 years and signed up together. So they are both younger than 38 but older than 30 since Alejandro is a Colonel. Looking at Wikipedia you can/have to join 18 the Mexican military for at least 3 years, this gives them about maybe two years to get to know each other before joining together.

Ghost : 35 [2022]

Honestly just pick an age between Price and Gaz, I personally like the idea of him being the same age as Alex and having them know each other previously. Maybe even before Ghost starts wearing the skull mask.

Laswell & Nikolai : 52 & 45 [2022]

No older that 52 and 45 if we go based on their actors ages, which personally makes the most sense to me. Laswell's Campaign biography mentions her supervising a SAD program in 2008, and her having studied a Master's degree in strategic intelligence analysis and having a BA in International Affairs. This doesn't help much though with figuring out her age.

AN: Hopefully this very long post is some what helpful or at least has some good resources that people can check out, especially fanfic writers or people making their own OCs.

I'm also going to repeat what I put at the top the end here. But what I've written down is not a definitive answer for their ages (minus Farah & Hadir) it's just what I personally think makes the most sense.

Don't let my own opinions/conclusions about their ages get in the way of you having fun with how you view/interpret these characters.

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mitoad · 19 days

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IMPORTANT !! 🍉 cod actors who support israel reblogs are appreciated, spread the word

looks like price nd soap r the only real ones left … oh well time 2 pirate games im not letting them hav my money !!

BIG BIG BIG heads up !! (from @/dumbsadlesbian in comments )

This is a flawed post. Knowing someone’s stance from one or two likes on a post is so misleading. When did they like it? Have they learned since? For example, Elliot Knight posted saying he’s learned since and was misguided in the chaos of the early events. His sister, whom he is incredibly close to, posts nearly every day in support of Palestine. There is no way she didn’t whoop sense into his ass. On top of that, liking certain posts can be doomscrolling, saving them for later, etc. There are actors on here that one hundred percent need to lose everyone’s support. But going “this person who I know nothing about and is relatively private is a Zionist. Evidence: (liked one post on Twitter five months ago)” seems a little extreme. I am whole heartedly pro Palestine. But this shit just makes it impossible to sway others onto our side.

+i also have heard that samuel roukin (ghost va) has spoken on Palestine and is pro-Palestinian .

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aestheticanimegirl15 · 1 month

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I found this on pinterest and it got me thinking.... any one of the cod characters would do this for you, yea maybe some more than others, but each and every single one would still do this. For one, it wasn't easy to become close to them to the point they would consider you a lover, no a long life partner (example; husband, wife, ect) it took a while. So they would do anything for you, after all you managed to get close to them in spite of their closed off ways and their job. For two, they already have lost a lot thanks to either personal reasons or reasons related to their line of work, they are going to make damn sure they are not going to loose you too. Don't matter if they have to burn the world down and rebuild it from scratch to give you that safe, quiet life you always dreamed of they would do it in a heartbeat, the only thing stopping them is that you hadn't given them the ok. But once you do? There is nothing in heaven, hell, or on earth that would stop them besides you.

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vikkrest · 12 days

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Plant dad Gaz and his after deployment routine

#cod #cod mw2 #cod kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #“oh no my fucking monstera”#gaz apparently

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radiantblog-cod · 6 months

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Kyle in the morning.

#cod #callofdutymodernwarfare2 #codmw2 #daz3d #codfanrender #render #cod kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick

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mutantthedark · 27 days

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Disney TsumTsum!Task Force 141

And nooooo, It's not April Fool's post. I'm dealing with art block rn soooo... I decided to post something cute! Such as except, I'll try to post on Mondays, maybe a week or two, who knows? (Price has a cigar yes). I should probably do the others... *thinking* Bonus! Soap with my oc, Sigma!

Hope you like it! (ノ*°▽°*) <3

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baduzzxy · 24 days

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F-FHUHCK ??????

#im so crying #between my legs is a sobbing girl #cod x you #cod x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz nation #cod smut #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #cod kyle gaz garrick

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fadingsweetsphantom · 2 days

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Simon never really lets his guard down, hence why he volunteered himself to be the designated driver whenever they all go out drinking. He knows his limits and is by no means a lightweight when it comes to handling his liquor. Sticking to a glass of whiskey or two for the night.

They always go to the same pub, a small cozy place about 10 minutes drive away from the base. Each time Simon and Price watch Soap, Gaz and Roach get progressively drunk as the night goes on and egging each on about who can take more shots then who and telling outlandish stories. Overall having a nice night off base.

Price is always the first one to head out and go home for the night, telling Simon to keep an eye on the boys and drive safe when they’re done. Simon nods before turning back to watch their silly drunk hooligans.

Simon decides its time to call it a night when it hits midnight if the boys hadn’t decided any time beforehand that they were ready to go back home.

Two out of five times, Simon ends up having to chase one of them down and wrangle them into the car. Most of those times, it's Roach who's the runner. There has been a number of occasions in which Roach has gotten on the hood of the car and declared himself the roach king and refused to get down unless Simon promised to catch him if he jumped down.

Gaz is mostly cooperative and usually ends up falling asleep in the car so Simon ends up carrying him to bed. Its very rare for Gaz to not be complaint when it comes to going home, Simon makes sure he's tucked in and has a water bottle for in the morning.

Soap is very 50/50 Simon has come to realize, depending on who’s side Soap has stuck by for more of the night helps Simon figure out how Soap is gonna behave that night. Bewteen a hyped up Soap and Roach, they can find themselves in chaos a lot sooner then what Simon wants, often describing the ordeal to Price as like trying to put two rowdy over grown toddlers to bed. Luckily for Simon, Soap greatly settles down once they're back in the liuetents quarters away from prying eyes. It only takes a couple minutes of cuddling before Soap is out like a light, curled up against Simon’s side.

Over all, Simon doesn't mind looking after the three, a way to show that he cares about them and loves them each in his own ways.

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issysfantasyworldsblog · 18 days

Text

Coming Home

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Notes:

pure fluff, bath, naked bodies, no smut, body worshipping, kissing, no use of y/n, no description of the reader’s body anatomy;

Summary:

Kyle comes home. ♡

Words: ~720

------

You can't help but smile as you hear the door close. Kyle sighs as he sets his heavy bag down on the floor. Glancing around the corner, you glimpse your attractive boyfriend, one hand removing his boots while the other holds a present.

"Hello," Kyle greets with a weary smile as he stands up. You pull him into a tight embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. He reciprocates, resting his chin on your hairline.

"It's good to be home. I missed this, and I missed you," he murmurs, lost in his thoughts.

"I missed you too," you respond, kissing his cheek tenderly and feeling his growing beard. He hums in appreciation, holding onto you tightly. Despite the smell of gunpowder and sweat on him, you couldn't care less now.

"Are you hungry? I made spaghetti carbonara," you offer.

"As much as I would love to, I must shower first. I wouldn't want to ruin your delicious cooking with my odour," he declines with a chuckle.

“Then would you like to take a bath with me?" you ask, blushing slightly. Kyle responds by placing his lips on yours. The outside world fades away for a few seconds as you focus on each other. The noisy trumpet playing of the neighbour's six-year-old and the barking of "Sir Cookie," the chihuahua across the street, are forgotten. The most important thing is that the love of your life is back, alive, and without any severe injuries.

As you enter the bathroom, you fill the tub with water and toss a vanilla-scented bath bomb. Meanwhile, in the shared bedroom, Kyle is stripping off his clothes and throwing them into the laundry basket. As you hear him grumble and curse, you can't help but wonder if he's okay.

"Are you alright in there?" you call out.

"Yeah, just kinda stiff," he replies, appearing naked in the bathroom doorway. Your cheeks flush as you take in his fit physique.

"Goodness, Kyle," you stammer.

“It's not like you haven't seen me naked before. And you know you can touch it whenever you want," he teases with a mischievous grin and playful sparkle in his brown eyes.

"I know, I know," you respond, "but it's been weeks since I've seen you. Next time, give me a heads up before you flaunt your amazing body." Your significant other laughs and wraps themselves around you.

“I try to remember for next time, but I can't make any promises.“

As he eases himself into the bathtub, he lets out a low grunt. The warm water immediately starts soothing his tired muscles.

“Oh, man... That's nice," he murmurs, closing his eyes and leaning back. You observe him discretely before also slipping out of your clothes.

"Can you scoot over a bit?" you request.

"Why? Maybe I want to admire your beautiful body," Kyle teases with a pout.

"Creep. Just give me some room now," you respond, motioning for him to move over. With a scoff, Kyle begrudgingly makes some space for you. As you settle across from him, you adjust your positions in the tub until you are both comfortable.

You take a moment to revel in the peacefulness. As your mind wanders, you tenderly stroke his legs, paying extra attention to the pale scars. Suddenly, he breaks the silence, asking,

"What's on your mind?" Startled, you turn to face him.

"Just how fortunate I am to have you by my side," you reply, leaning towards him.

Smirking, he responds, "That's my line, babe."

His hands rest on your hips, gently caressing them with his thumbs. You lock lips, getting lost once again in each other's presence. His tongue playfully teases your lips, urging you to part them. The gentle, innocent kiss quickly escalates into a passionate make-out session.

However, neither of you takes it to the next level. While you do have sexual relations, upon his return home, both of you relish in the small moments of the relationship, particularly cuddling - without any discussions about work or other serious topics.

As you pull away from the kiss and meet each other's gaze, breathing heavily, you can see the blush on his cheeks, and he can see the one on yours. At that moment, you know that you have fallen in love with the perfect man for you.

------

my socials

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narcissosbythepool · 10 days

Text

How about some Rosie AU?

Kyle and John are back from the hospital with baby Rosie and trying to readjust to a life with a newborn. A night time feeding turns into an opportunity to reminisce and dance.

Tags: implied trans pregnancy, tooth-rotting fluff, slow dancing, newborn baby things. Continues under the cut.

In the past two weeks Kyle has become so good at warming up the baby bottle that he should list it on his CV at this point. Apply for a promotion. He can see the title, Captain Baby Formula. The Milk General. He’d finally outrank John.

Rosie huffs quietly as she drinks, eyes drooping a little as she greedily chugs down the formula. Kyle has found that she fusses less when he walks around a little, and tonight their nightly wanderings have found them in the kitchen. The microwave clock shows 3:14 in the morning. This used to be the worst night watch during missions… Something in the hours between 3 and 5 in the morning killed the soul. It was impossible to sleep after the watch was over, and if you woke up after 2, it was pointless to try and go back to sleep – you’d just have to gather yourself and turn into a person who could keep watch for two hours and still be trusted with a firearm.

Kyle doesn’t know if this is any easier. At least he’s not expected to snipe enemies at this hour, but he’s instead trying to feed a newborn and that feels somehow equally, if not more, daunting.

He barely notices when John passes them on his way to the loo, they just nod at each other like colleagues, and Kyle doesn’t question why he’s awake. Both of their sleep schedules have been fucked beyond recognition – at some point they’d dreamed of doing this in shifts, so that one of them could catch some shut-eye in-between feedings. That dream was immediately shattered as they came home with the baby, because Rosie does not really give a shit about their set schedules and both John and Kyle are light sleepers from years of missions out in the field… but it is also nice to have someone awake with you, Kyle has found.

It reminds him of the times they’d keep night watch during missions. Before they’d stumbled into bed with each other, before secret kisses out of sight, they’d often sat together watching the sun rise and fall. Sharing a smoke, exchanging stories from their times in training and service, Kyle remembers those moments when he would sneak glances at John, watch his face in the changing light; how the burning feeling inside him yearned to reach out and touch, to follow the frown wrinkling his brow with his fingertips, to muss his hair once the bloody hat came off. He started carrying a lighter with him soon enough, just to have the excuse to keep those moments going. He’d watch John in the glow of the struggling flame as he lit his cigar. At some point, John started looking back and Kyle would concentrate on the glowing embers of the cigar instead, feeling like he was aflame as well.

Rosie coughs a little and Kyle is brought back to the moment in a snap. She doesn’t even cry, just attacks the bottle again with new fervour and Kyle sighs in relief. He really doesn’t have the energy to deal with her crying right now. Rosie merely sighs like she’s been working a tough 9 to 5 at the office – though Kyle guesses that growing is a hard job in itself. He squeezes her a little closer in his arms and she gives him a confused side-eye.

God, he loves her.

Rosie doesn’t react to the sound of the toilet flushing or the sink running as John washes his hands. Kyle listens as John carefully opens the door, doing his best not to make too much noise. To his surprise, John doesn’t immediately beeline back to bed to try and sleep a bit more before Rosie wakes them again but instead joins them. He plasters himself against Kyle’s back and hums some form of greeting which had ceased to be English about two feedings ago.

“Hi,” Kyle whispers and smiles when John’s hands find their way to his hips, the touch light but needy nonetheless.

“Mmh,” John murmurs back, the low bass of his voice resonating in Kyle’s chest. He presses a dry kiss against the nape of Kyle’s neck, and then hooks his chin over Kyle’s shoulder to look at Rosie. “Alright?”

“All clear. She’s being very good.”

“Takes after her father, I see.”

“And who is that a compliment to, hm?”

Kyle feels rather than hears John’s quiet chuckle andresists squirming when John’s cold nose nuzzles against his skin. He can’t help his smile breaking into a giddy sort of grin when John kisses his neck again, then another spot as if it’s imperative, and then Rosie makes a noise that captures their attention again.

“No distractions at mealtime,” Kyle chastises him with a whisper.

“I was being bad,” John admits, sounding sufficiently pathetic and apologetic as he addresses her, “but sweetheart, you must understand… when someone looks this lovely, it’s hard to resist.”

Rosie, their new overlord and ruler of attention, squints at them as she drinks, and Kyle has to bite his lip not to let the laugh bubbling in his chest out.

“She looks quite put off… You might need another strategy to be forgiven,” he says softly. John is so warm against his back, he can’t help but lean into him and enjoy the closeness. John’s chest against his back is steady, rising and falling with his calm breaths, and in that moment, cuddled against John and with their daughter in his arms, Kyle feels such a strong flash of contentment that it surprises him a little.

It’s a terrifying thing, to be this happy. It’s like his luck could run out at any moment, and at the same time, he finds immense comfort in the fact that this will be the rest of their lives – perhaps not the night feedings, but John right here, to share this terrifying, exciting new life. Their sweet little Rosie in his arms, so trusting and small; it feels so right that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, other than bask in the love that consumes his entire being right now.

Or maybe it’s just 3 AM fucking with his head. He’ll probably feel less loving and grateful when he has to wake up again. But for now, he’s going to enjoy this.

“How about a little dance?” John asks and Kyle hums, considering it. As if on instinct, he begins swaying side to side.

“It can be arranged,” he states. Rosie sighs in his hold again and Kyle tilts the bottle a bit. Not much left. Kyle’s prediction of getting her to fall asleep quickly looks more and more promising. He smiles down at her. The corners of her lips twitch. It probably means she’s starting to feel gassy, but Kyle’s heart still leaps in his chest at the sight.

“Look,” he whispers conspiratorially, “she thinks it’s a good idea.”

John’s hands are steady on his hips and guide Kyle to an easy rhythm of swaying back and forth. They somehow press even closer and John’s arms rise to wrap around Kyle’s as if they’re holding Rosie in tandem, including her in their silly dance. He’s mindful of Kyle’s surgical wound, careful not to pull on the stitches, and truly, truly Kyle could spend the rest of his life like this.

They sway to imaginary music, standing in place. Rosie offers no protests, just blinks at them with her huge brown eyes and wonders at the world and it kills Kyle a little inside to know that soon enough she’ll stop being this tiny, stop needing them as much as she does now. But right now, she’s small and trusts with her whole heart, and—

Has finished her bottle.

“Oh,” Kyle chuckles, “and she’s done.”

“The meal dance helped,” John replies and Kyle nods sagely.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Well, don’t make me feel too useful,” John mumbles and Kyle lets out a noise that might be laughter. At this hour he’s not certain himself.

He switches Rosie to his shoulder (they both say “scrunch” out loud as she does the newborn scrunch, curling up her arms and legs towards her body like a little frog) for burping, and turns around in John’s arms.

“Good evening,” John says and Kyle bites his lip, trying in vain to stifle the smile.

“It’s night,” he argues, patting and rubbing Rosie’s back gently. He keeps swaying, as he can’t walk around with her now, and John matches him as always, his hands warm and possessive on Kyle’s lower back.

“It’s the worst watch,” John retorts back and Kyle must be hysterical because the smile breaks free again either way. It’s like he’s being flirted with and he feels flustered.

“Well, Cap, what will you do without the 3 am cigar?” he flirts back, and isn’t it funny how he can still be so freshly smitten with the man who is the father of his child. Rosie makes a faint, unamused noise, and Kyle keeps rubbing her back. She’ll be ready soon.

John rolls his eyes. “That was an excuse. Don’t need to tempt you for a smoke anymore. I can just have you here.”

“You knew, and let me buy a lighter for you.”

“I liked knowing it was for me,” John says quietly. “Don’t need to keep you at arm’s length anymore.”

Kyle chuckles. “Clearly not,” he says, hoisting Rosie a little and they snort as she finally lets out a satisfied burp, those pesky air bubbles now successfully ejected into the atmosphere. “Do you want to see if she’s going to be this agreeable going back to sleep?”

He readjusts Rosie again, bringing her back to a cradle in his arms, and is once again struck by how tiny she is. She’s basically just the size of his hands. How can anything be this cute?

John seems to be on the same wavelength, looking down at their little girl with a smitten expression. He swipes her cheek gently with his fingers and she seems to lean into his touch, like a little flower reaching towards the sun, and when John looks back up at Kyle, he looks like he’s ready to melt on the spot.

“What wouldn’t I do for you two?”

While it’s sweet, it’s in Kyle’s nature to tease.

“Buy your own lighter, apparently.”

John bites back a smile and scrunches his nose in mock distaste. It’s devastatingly adorable.

Rosie’s beginning to blink slower, her eyelids heavy, and it’s time for this cute moment to be over, as much as Kyle mourns it.

“Time to put her back to sleep,” he sighs. John’s thumb rubs over his spine slowly, and he looks like he’s mulling over something.

“Can I?”

Kyle raises his brows. “Do you really want to?”

“I’d like to hold her for a bit,” John says and his smile turns a little melancholic at the edges. “I won’t have many chances soon.”

Well, there’s something they have avoided addressing, and Kyle certainly isn’t going to fight him here. More sleep? He’ll welcome it any time.

“Alright,” he agrees and then gently, carefully transfers Rosie to John’s arms, where she settles with minimal squirming – poor girl all tuckered out from her feeding. John’s attention is completely focused on her, allured by Rosie’s sleepy charm, his eyes soft as he just stares at her like he’s mesmerised.

“See you at the next watch,” Kyle quips and leans in to kiss John’s cheek. John just hums, and Kyle puts away the bottle and the formula while John takes Rosie to their bedroom. Kyle soon follows suit and climbs gratefully into their bed, tempted to just burrow under the covers – but he resists sleep, watching John walk around as he prepares Rosie’s bassinet so he can set her in once she finally falls asleep.

Kyle should just close his eyes and let the tiredness take over. Exhaustion pulls his eyelids closed and his body feels so heavy. God, he wants to sleep, knowing he’ll have to wake up in a couple hours to feed Rosie again.

But he wants to watch this. He wants to witness John murmur softly to their daughter, humming a little tune under his breath, wants to see how Rosie, despite fighting sleep herself, keeps looking up at her Da like she wants to stay awake for him too.

The night watch used to be their thing, something Kyle would look forward to with each mission, as crazy as it was. Soap used to make fun of him for it, but it really was a special time, staying up with John. Being close, building a relationship, catching his eye, and leaving him breathless with anticipation as the tension grew. Falling in love was such a gradual, devastating thing, something he knew to expect but was caught by surprise nonetheless – and in the quiet hours of the night the feeling grew and took root, so strong he couldn’t tear himself away, too close to thrash away without damage.

And now he’s here, with a child and a new kind of night watch, a new kind of responsibility and a new kind of fondness flickering into life from the embers of what was already there, nurtured and cared for.

He pulls the covers over himself and closes his eyes.

Captain Baby Formula signing off.

End.

#pricegaz #gazprice #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #rosie garrick price #rosie au #narcissosbythepool #cod #trans pregnancy #implied at least #john price #cod kyle gaz garrick #cod john price

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codmw2019-2022 · 2 months

Text

COD MW2 [2022] - Atomgrad Raids

Here's some of the information I was able to find on the Atomgrad Raids, below the keep reading line is a YouTube Video containing all the cutscenes if you don't want to go through a just over 2 hour walkthrough for the story.

There was some information that I was unable to find, which is on the fandom wiki, but since it's only text and not screenshots I'm personally not sure how accurate it is.

Side Note:

I've also added a screen recording at the bottom of my favourite scene that I feel we need to talk about more. I absolutely love Gaz and Alex's character dynamic, and this scene shows it perfectly.

There is also another scene that I love that shows Alex and Farah's dynamic, I love how Alex is the calm to Farah's justified rage. Which is in the linked video below is at about the 19 minutes and 18 seconds mark.

All Raid Cutscenes

youtube

Timestamps: 1 - 00.00 | 2 - 10.36 | 3 - 12.35 | 4 - 17.04 5 - 19.18 | 6 - 31.25 | 7 - 32.29 | 8 - 48.56

INTEL - [ 1 , 3 , 6 , 7 , 9 , 10 , 11 , 16 , 20 , 21 , 22 , 23 , 24 , 25 , 28 ]

Translated Arabic

Intel 1 : "Mother, I want you to know that I am safe, for now. Though this may be the last time you hear from me. This morning, the Killers arrived. They came with weapons and anger. They took us from our homes and gave them to soldiers. The house papa built for us now houses those monsters. I was able to escape, but my Kamal was taken. God only knows what they've done to him. You will worry for me, and I would be a fool to tell you otherwise. Please know that I have not given up. I still have hope. -Amal"

Intel 3 : "Armory restocked M4s, Tac-Exs, K-Blocs Code is: 627 Keep it to yourself this time, okay?"

TIMELINE [ rough ]

48 hours previous an abandoned bunker/soviet fallout shelter is found by goat herders.

Farah tasked a follow-on team of LF fighters lead by Alex. Last Update from Alex was 2022-12-22 0829.

Laswell's last attempt to contact Alex was after 2022-12-22 1100, the team consisting of Farah, Gaz and Captain Price is sent soon after this.

Clip

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mitoad · 15 days

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from april 15-16, i will not be uploading any content or interacting with any posts in respects to the global strike for palestine scheduled on april 15 .

every like this post gets (up to the 15 of april AEST) will be 1AUD donated to care for gaza .

(for any people living in australia, protests in melbourne and sydney may disrupt tram schedules or traffic flow . please be careful. for protesters, stay safe and make sure to pack water , food , and spare cash !!)

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sirenmoth · 25 days

Text

Little Moments

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Synopsis: You have Gaz have a horribly thrown together date at a safe house

CW: Fluff, domestic fluff, military talk, war mention, hurt/comfort, kinda

AO3

19:00

Late evening light filled the sky in rays, casting hues of bright oranges, pinks and reds, all blending together as the sun started to set over the horizon. You would've stopped to admire the scenery and the beauty, stopped to take in the last of burning star's warmth and drink in the peace and tranquillity as it set below the treeline. But it wasn't time for that, walking in the middle of nowhere, you were given instructions to hold down a safe house while the other three dealt with other things elsewhere. Told to wait until the team reunited to set up the base of operation.

You have no idea how long you've been walking, the trees all look the same, your legs hurt from the excessive walking on the unstable terrain, nerves on fire from all the exercise, "God, it feels like I'm doing rucks again." You mutter, breaking the silence between the two of you, disturbing the late evening birds singing their final tunes before sleep, Gaz gives a brief chuckle at your attempt at humour and small talk, slowing his pace down for you to catch up, once you reach his side he picks up his pace again.

"It does, doesn't it? Would rather do a ruck march again than this." He adds once you met his pace, continuing the hike with you beside him. "You think Cap sent us alone for a reason? I know we're good at our job, he makes that clear, but I feel like he knows something."

The suspicaion that Price knew something was always present in the back of your mind, that he knew about you two and the relationship you both carefully nuilt and nurtured, was worrying. Having a relationship with a co-worker was one thing, but having a relationship were both are in the military, let alone one of the most elite task forces in the world, was a whole other thing neither you nor Gaz are ready to face.

"I don't know, he probaly would've said something by now is he did." You reply, looking at him in your periphel vision, reaching across to his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

The rest of the walk was completed in a deafening silence, as you enjoyed each other's company, with the previous conversation still fresh on your mind with worry. Listening to the songbird tweets fade into the croaks and chitters of the forest nightlife. Finally arriving at the location, a small cabin hidden between a few trees, you both decide to split up, with you securing the outside perimeter and Gaz securing the inside, mentally scanning and logging any advantage and disadvantage spots.

The inside of the cabin was nothing special, most safe houses weren't, with its sole purpose to keep its occupants safe and away from danger and supply them with the bare basics a human being would need to survive. Gaz places his weapon on safety mode, and leans it against a wall then removes his kevlar vest, making himself at home on the old ratty sofa in the living room, sighing heavily once his legs get to rest and the pressure is taken off them from walking so much, all too eager to relax after that hike. You follow suit and copy his actions, weapon on safety against the wall, kevlar vest off, sitting down on the sofa, side by side.

Silence once against filled the air, this time comforting, as you lay your head on Kyle's shoulder, his head leaning against yours, taking his hand against and lacing your fingers together once more, enjoying his warmth and company.

You two lived and cherished these moments, relished in the tiny pieces of domestic bliss, not knowing when it will end or be ripped from you. Romance on the Task Force was rare to come by outside the small hookups and meaningless flings, and even more rare for a chance for it to fully bloom and properly look after, being away for months on end and being busy all the time, with little room to attend dates and anniversaries, family and relationship alike, all members are estranged from their normal life in some way due to this, which is why anyone involved with the Task Force, both directly or indirectly, avoided it all together, expect Laswell. Everyone likes hearing Laswell mention the dates her and her wife go on, a small sense of normalcy they will never get.

"What's the status report?" You ask, toying and fiddling with his fingers, closing your eyes to drink in the calm.

"Standard MRE's, supplies, beddings. Y'know, the usual that's stashed in a place like this brings and offers." Kyle replied, moving closer towards you, his knee brushing against yours, "We do have ravioli MRE's though, beef, so I see that as a win."

His last remark earns a small laugh from you, causing the man to smile, beef ravioli was seen as the better choices of food out on the field, people sometimes traded things to a packet, and it was commonplace for tiny fights to happen over it. "Do I have to fight you for it?" You jest, lovingly squeezing his hand. These moments alone are something you both enjoy, just the two of you, alone and undisturbed, Kyle once mentioned he felt like he could live off these moments alone.

"If there's enough, we could have a date, a terrible makeshift romantic dinner." You laugh, the idea was outlandish right now, but not an overly bad idea. There's a time and a place and right isn't the time nor the place for such a thing, but that wasn't going to stop you from pressing forward with the idea," We can hide them from the rest of them, keep all the good food to ourselves. They won't know."

Kyle lets out a genuine, hearty laugh at your proposal, "If you want to deal with a grumpy Scotsman who won't shut up and an overly pissed off Captain, be my guest, I won't stop you."

You sign at his words, knowing he's right. Ghost is fine eating just about anything on the field, as long as it's edible, he doesn't care. Soap and Price on the other hand like having decent, or as decent as packet ration food can get, out on the field, Price says it's a 'rewards for dealing you lot of a bunch of muppets' and Soap jokes that he's 'a growing boy, I need a balanced diet' while flexing, only to get hit in the back of the head by Ghost, who tells him to shut up.

Getting up and stretching, you smile down at Kyle, "Well, you rest up pretty boy, I'm going to see if the radio works. Can't have a broken lien of communication now." Kissing him on his forehead you leave into one of the adjacent rooms, watching the sun finally set outside the window, slivers of light dance around the room as you change and check each radio frequency until you get in touch with either Price or Laswell. Once you do and state your positions and everything is accounted for and checked, you leave the radio on in case of an emergency and turn the volume up so you can hear it from the other room, and head back into the living room.

Entering the living room once against, you notice Kyle is no longer there, thinking he probably went upstairs to claim a room before the others show up, you head towards the stairs to do the same, the last thing you want is to share with anyone, unless it's Kyle. Walking by the open kitchen door, you fail to take note of what the British man has been doing in your absence.

Kyle clears his throat as you walk past, causing you to stop in your tracks and turn to him, now he has your full attention he smiles, takes your hand and states, "I have something to show you," before leading you into the rundown, and frankly probably safety hazard kitchen. There sat on the old, worn out wooden dinning table, were two neatly placed beef ravioli MRE's and the standard issue drink that came with them, laid out as best as possible, opposite each other, the scene mimicked one you would find at any fine-dinning restaurant.

Kyle stands behind you, still holding your hand, anxious but pleased with himself. "Do you like it?" He asks, looking at you with pleading eyes, trying to gauge your reaction, "We haven't had a proper date in a while your idea gave me some inspiration and I thought 'Why not'. We don't have to tell them we took them," he adds on, "I know it's not perfect."

Turning around to look at him, you place a gentle, loving hand on his check, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "It's prefect. More than prefect, thank you." You reply, smiling as he practically melts in your hands when your words reach his ears. Kyle takes your hand and walk you over to the table, pulling out the chair facing the door out, like the 'true gentleman he is' as he says, before sitting in the chair opposite you, his facing lit up with a bright smile.

The both you talk and laugh as you eat your meal, treating this like any normal date you would have, already forgetting where you are and that you are currently on the job. Even after the food is gone as well as the drinks, you still talk, sitting at the table engrossed in your own world as you discuss recent events, work drama and where and when you should go on your next proper date once this mission is over, maybe a small corner café or a stay at home take out night. The radio screeching startles you both, Price's voice crackles from the other end of it, announcing they'll be arriving in around thirty minutes.

You get up from your seat, taking the empty food packets and bottles from the table to throw away. Gaz resorts the table to what it was and so there's no obvious signs of your little date, you share a look at the fact you both forgot you were in the middle of a mission, nonetheless you have a job to do. Gaz wraps his arms around your waist, you wrap yours around his neck, embracing in the final moments of solace and bliss before heading back into the fray.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz x you #gaz garrick x reader #gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #cod men x reader #call of duty x reader #cod fanfic #cod kyle gaz garrick #cod gaz x reader #gaz cod #cod gaz #cod mw x reader

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