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vampiricgaz · 14 days

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Reluctancy pt. 1 [Kyle Garrick x NB Reader]

A/N: An idea I had for an Enemies to Lovers medium-slow-burn fit series with my precious cheeky Sergeant. As always, updates are sporadic, so lemme know if you wanna be tagged. Not a lot of Gaz love out there and I plan to change that.

Summary: Gaz finds himself in an interesting position when the Captain of a troublesome organization ends up on his front door with surprising injuries and promises of intel he doesn’t trust.

CW: Mentions of injuries (not explicit), some cursing, Gaz being a moody bastard, mentions of blood, etc. [As always, CWs will change with each chapter accordingly]

Word Count: 2466

This whole thing was stupid. It’s bad enough that your team essentially overthrew and exiled you. But what was worse was who you had to confront for help.

You’d been dancing around TF141 for a while now. They aren’t very fond of you and your team’s style, thinking you to be too much at times. But those interrogations needed to be done — you needed the intel. And you got the intel. So what was the problem? You’d studied them for ages, sneaking around them at any given chance. They’d done much worse than you and your team.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters is you find a certain Sergeant to help you with your current situation. The Captain would never hear you out, and the Skull and Mohawk duo looked all too terrifying to deal with. So the next best thing? The Sergeant they all seemed to trust. If you can gain his, you can gain theirs and fix this stupid ordeal.

You wince as you take a step towards the barracks at the 141’s current base. They were currently stationed with a few other SAS operatives after doing a couple inside jobs with their help. Your head spins a little when you climb the stairs, using your previous intel to figure out the Sergeant’s room.

Knock knock knock…

You’re greeted with the sight of the younger, more spritely member of the 141. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of that soft, lazy smile he offers. But those dark brown eyes can only grow darker, a low growl coming from his lips.

“Got a lot of nerve coming around here, mate,” comes his low tone, and he pulls a small blade from his belt. “Gimme one good reason not t’finish ya where you stand…” A threat and a half if you’ve ever heard one. This will be a bit more difficult…

You grip your side again, a throb of pain rippling through your body. It punches the wind out of you, something you try to ignore. You’re a bloody Captain, for crying out loud! You can take a few kicks to the ribs, and even more knicks from a blade.

“I’ve got intel. You’ve got shelter.” You state cooly, trying to save face by gritting your teeth and offering a scowl. “I think a deal is set.”

Garrick raises his brow and he takes a single step closer. “Come again? I’ve got a criminal here an’ you ‘spect me to help ya?”

A low growl resonates from your own throat this time.

“Listen. I don’t want this any more than you do, but I’ve got somethin’ you want, and I don’t reckon either of us want the current situation with the Cartel to get any further out of hand, hm?”

He opens his mouth to argue, brows furrowing in the process. But he stops the moment you cough, arms coming up to cover your chapped lips. You both look to find blood on your arm.

“Fuck…” you murmur, eyes fluttering as you collapse forward.

Garrick doesn’t catch you, and you find yourself crumpled on your knees in front of the Sergeant.

“32 point 26 degrees North, 116 point 18 degrees West.” You manage to choke out, just as he begins pushing the door closed.

That gets him to pause.

“Tecate, Mexico.” He doesn’t move, simply staring at you as you speak with blood in your mouth. “There’s a major Cartel system there.”

He exhales through his nose, turning to look both ways outside of his door before grabbing you by the bicep and dragging you inside. You’re plopped onto the floor, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you. Garrick paces, eyes flicking you over.

“Why should I trust those coordinates, mate?” He inquires with disdain in his voice. “I’m not lookin’ to get my team ambushed for the second time.”

“Third” You correct his words before you can stop it, earning a glare from the Sergeant. “… and you can trust me because it’s true. Any drone footage can prove that. Big trucks go in…”

You cough up more blood, eyes shot and body trembling.

“Lots of small cars go out. Shipments.”

The Sergeant stares you down for a good, long while. His gaze flicks from your blood-soaked lips to your injured waist, arm protective around the sensitive area. He analyzes you, figuring every little detail out. He’s always been the observing type.

“So you want a place to shelter in return, then?” He cocks his head to the side. “Or perhaps some medicinal aid.”

You scowl. “I’m fine. I need that Cartel Camp destroyed before they smuggle anything else in or out.” “Or before your team gets to them.”

You suck in a breath. Had you been that obvious? No, he’s trying to show power over you. “No. Before they hurt my team.” He makes a sound of understanding, one that’s laced with sarcasm. “Tell me then, mate. How’d they get captured?”

This man knows how to press all of your buttons, and knows how to interrogate. You know that’s what he’s doing. He’s breaking you down, flooding you with questions that he knows you’ll struggle to answer as time goes on. You can only keep this lie up for so long.

But you can bite one bullet and save yourself from another.

“I was careless.” That gets him to look at you more directly. “They got my team, and now I’m here. I want them back before they’re smuggled for money.”

He inhales through his nose, looking rather irritated by the situation. No, not quite irritated. More… inconvenienced by it. He raises his foot and pushes you down by the shoulder, eyes narrowed.

“If I fix up these scuffs to find you were lying to me…” he purrs, eyes darkening with every second. “You’ll never get yourself sorted when I’m done with ya…”

You let out a grunt as your back hits the ground. The action causes your torso to stretch, your ribs pressing uncomfortably against the surrounding muscles.

“I don’t need—“

“You say that one more time and I’m gonna drop you out o’ my window.” His eyes bore into yours. “Take yer gear off. Let me get you right as rain. And then get me the bloody photos from your intel.”

You don’t argue when his foot presses your shoulder more, lips parting to yell out in pain. He releases his foot after a moment, allowing you a chance to breathe. “Fuck…”

Impatiently, he reaches out and grabs your tac vest, tearing at the velcro straps and throwing it elsewhere in his barrack. His hands grip the black tac shirt you have on, unzipping the half-zipper before yanking it over your head. You cry out again from the sudden jerk to your arm but he pays no mind.

Somewhere deep down, you want to abandon this whole thing. Get away and start all over. But your men spoke of unspeakable means to end the Cartel, and you can’t let them get their hands on that base in Tecate. Not when a list of every Cartel base from here to New York is laid out in plain text. Not while your men have the means to some terrible bio weapons.

The bloody traitors.

“Bloody hell…” Garrick murmurs, taking a look at the bruising along your right-hand side. A good majority of the lower ribs were covered in deep yellow, purple, and red bruising, not to mention the cuts and scars along the rest of your torso and arms. “Right… first things on the list: cold pack, gauze, and anti-bac. Give me a moment.”

You cower a little when he stands at his full height. You weren’t intimidated by him, not necessarily. But the thought of him treating your wounds was a blow to your ego you weren’t interested in taking. Not by a long shot.

“Just get me the supplies and I’ll fix it myself.” You bite back another groan as blood seeps past your teeth. “Then you can take care of the intel.”

“No.”

You glare at the Sergeant’s back as he stretches up to grasp the med-kit on the top of the fridge.

“No?”

He turns to face you. “There’s sharp things inside this kit. I’m not takin’ my chances, Chav.”

You exhale your frustrations. “Why do I get the feeling that’s an insult…”

“Because it bloody well is.”

His hands grasp your biceps, splaying you out on the floor beneath him as he rips a pack of gauze open. “Don’t move or I might make this hurt on purpose…”

You hold your breath as Garrick’s hands work the gauze around your waist. After a few wraps, he places a cold pack on your side, wrapping it a few times with gauze. Peeling off the seal with his teeth, he pulls open the pack of anti-bacterial wipes and eases the wet fabric over your wounds. Your body tenses at the burning sensation, eyes squeezing shut as you fight through your own pained sounds to keep some semblance of dignity in this situation.

A few minutes pass before he hauls you up again, setting you down a bit more gently on the couch in the living space of his barrack. He crouches down in front of you, pulling on his tan gloves.

“I’m going to get photos of that base from you, and if you want to stay unbroken, I suggest you waste no time getting those to me, Chav.”

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vampiricgaz · 15 days

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I Was Kidding Part Two: The Build-Up (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)

NSFW 18+

After his accidental, still somewhat drunken confession, Gaz and you enjoy the things people can do when they become more than friends ➔ afab!reader (you/your pronouns), implied alcohol consumption and drunkenness, hangover, crying, big feelings, making out, mentions of wet dreams, dry humping, sexual acts and fantasies, vomiting

1.7k

part one part two

Gaz almost feels like crying.

Legitimately, he just might.

Everything about this is unreal. It’s like a dream. The very dream he’s had a hundred times before. Gaz half expects that at any moment, he’s going to shoot awake in his own bed, trembling and alone.

That he’s going to find an all too familiar sticky patch in his boxers. That the wetness will have seeped through the fabric and into a thick puddle on his bedsheets.

That he’s going to find himself, once again, worked up beyond belief by nothing more than a wistful dream, brought so close to finishing only to have it torn away from him, leaving him with but a wretched yearning for your touch.

That he, so hard and leaking precum like a faucet, so desperate for release, would have no choice but to rut against his mattress or his pillow. That he would have to shut his eyes, trying desperately to bring back the memory of your touch, imagined or not, back to the forefront of his mind.

But now, as he rolls his hips again, harder and deeper than he had before. As his eyes flutter open just enough to see you arch your back, pressing against him. As he hears your moan, the sound warm and wet against his lips, the unimaginable is confirmed. This is actually happening. This is real.

He bites back a choked sob. Blinks tears from his eyes.

Holy shit.

The movement of his hips fumbles for a moment, stuttering against your body, the tip of his cock lined up perfectly with your clothed entrance. He recovers after a pause, panting heavily, going from the occasional roll of his hips against yours to a steady grind. The constant feeling of being pressed up against you, even through the layers of clothes, is heavenly. Soon, the grinding makes way for a desperate, almost feral humping. His hips stutter and shake, hands fisting the bedsheets at your side so hard he thinks they might just tear.

Gaz whines as he himself breaks the kiss, tongue lingering on your lips for a moment too long, needing to savour the taste however he can, licking over your mouth desperately, almost like a dog. Desperate and slobbery. He pulls back and takes it in. This is real. Holy shit. Holy shit, this is real. Gaz had confessed to you, and you to him. And now… now you two are making out, and you’re lying underneath him, hair disheveled, a heavy flush on your cheeks, spit-slicked lips swollen, eyes lidded and pupils blown wide. Because of him. All because of him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” had anyone else said it, Gaz might have rolled his eyes. Maybe even laughed. But when you say it? In that low, honeyed purr he has never heard before and so desperately needs to hear again? Fuck. He practically melts.

He ducks back down, your noses bumping awkwardly as you kiss, not that either of you care. Gaz's hands find their way to your waist, running up and down your sides. His hands shake as they graze your heated skin.

You bring a hand up to card through his hair and slip your tongue into his mouth. You kiss him hard, sitting up slightly, pushing Gaz back a bit from the force.

Gaz decides that he could die happy. Right here and now.

A shaky moan falls from his lips, quickly swallowed by your own. The movement of his hips has become almost frenzied. He knows his boxers were way past saving. He can feel the precum that wets the fabric with every movement of his hips. His dick rubbing against it with each roll. It’s gross, sure, but at the same time, he finds so insanely hot. To think, he’s been reduced to such a state, from what? Just a bit of kissing? God, the effect you have on him is unreal.

You hook a leg around his waist, pulling him closer than ever before, so close that he can feel the arousal that has soaked through the crotch of your sleep shorts, against his own ruined boxers. He can feel the slickness of your thighs, the dip of your entrance. Oh, fuck. Gaz whimpers as he realizes that, if it weren’t for the clothes between you, he’d be slipping inside your warm, wet heat. You pull him closer still, and he can feel your clit throb against him through the layers, Gaz just about cums on the spot.

It’s when Gaz finds the courage to move his hands a little higher up, thumb resting just under your breasts, fingers fanning down your sides. That it suddenly becomes too real.

He’s suddenly very aware of something. And not the tent in his boxers.

Gaz jerks back. You, who had just brought your other hand to his hip, tucking under his shirt to play at the skin along his waistband, look at him in wide-eyed surprise.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Your pupils are blown, hazy. Spit dribbles from your lips and down your neck. Gaz watches for a moment, transfixed. You reach for him hesitantly and he suddenly remembers why he had to break the kiss in the first place. “I’m sorry… I-I got carried away. I didn’t think-”

Gaz cuts your off abruptly as he lunges for the rubbish bin you keep near your desk.

“Oh, shit,” you say. You hop from the bed and skirt around him, hands waving anxiously.

Gaz's entire body heaves as he empties the entirety of his stomach contents all at once. Not knowing how to help, you shuffle up on the bed, closer to him. You sit behind him on the bed, rubbing comforting circles into his back as you coo comforting words, your breath fanning out over the back of Gaz's neck as you brush his hair from his face.

That doesn’t really help the situation.

After a long moment, Kyle is dry heaving. After another, he’s stopped entirely.

He stares at the inside of the waste bin and contemplates drowning himself in his own sick.

“You okay?” you ask, your voice laced with sweet concern.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice shattering a bit as he stutters. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He makes a face as he leans back, aware of the vomit that now spatters his shirt. You make a face at the sight.

You stand, take the basket from his hands, and pet his head gently. “I’ll get you some more water. Then we can run you a shower, okay?”

Gaz nods. He isn’t fully in his body anymore. He’s hovering somewhere in the corner, watching the scene from above like a ghost. God, he wishes he was a ghost. So that he wouldn’t have to live with this memory. So that he could fade away out of sight, invisible, and pretend this never happened.

It was only when you leave the room that his consciousness returns to him. He buries his face in his hands and curses himself internally.

“Come on,” your voice startles him. you have a towel slung over your shoulder and a fresh glass of water in your hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Kyle stands on trembling legs and follows you to the bathroom without a word. He brushes his teeth as you prepare the shower for him, testing the water and adjusting it carefully.

“There we go,” you breathe, setting your hands on your hips. You pause for a moment, eyes flickering anywhere but Gaz's own. You look to the ground and let out a shaky breath. “I… I’m sorry.”

Gaz feels his heart drop to his stomach. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have done that. You’re hungover. You're not thinking straight. I-I practically-”

“No!” Gaz says a little too forcefully. “No. God, no. You have no idea how much I wanted this. How long I have waited for this. For you. I… fuck. I should be the one apologizing. I ruined everything. I mean, nothing kills the mood quicker than someone blowing chunks…”

You laugh gently. “You’re not wrong,” your eyes soften, “I’m going to leave you to it, help yourself to whatever.”

“Or,” Gaz swallows the lump of nerves in his throat, looking up at you through his lashes, his expression heated. “Or... you could join me.”

“God....” You make a low, desperate sound at his offer, eyelids fluttering. You take a step back, grabbing onto the sink to steady yourself. “I want to, really, I do. So bad I can’t even begin to explain. But I need to clean up, and so do you.”

“Right… Okay. See you after?”

“After,” you confirm.

***

Steam floods out of the bathroom like a heavy fog when Gaz finally leaves. Hearing noise down the hall, he heads towards it. You’re standing in your small kitchen, your back to him as you hum a quiet tune.

You turn when he cleared his throat, and your jaw drops. Your eyes flicker down his form. His muscular chest bare and shining with droplets of water to the towel he’s tied loosely around his waist.

“I… I made toast!” you say, a little too loudly, face burning as you look away. You grab the plate from the counter and hold it out to him, not meeting his eyes. “Are you hungry?”

“I am,” Gaz says, stepping towards you. You squeak as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulled you close. Kyle watches the way your eyelids flutter as you press back onto his hardening cock, the way your lips part, an airy gasp falling free like a hushed prayer, and decides he could never go without this again. Gaz ducks his head down, pressing himself flush against your back, and licks a long, wet stripe up the side of your neck. His voice is a low growl, rumbling in the depths of his chest. “But not for food.”

“Is that so?” you hum, reaching back to grab him by the hair at the nape of his neck. Fingers tangling in the dark locks, you pull his head down to connect their lips in a fervent kiss. Eyes lidded, breathing laboured, you whisper against Gaz's lips. “Well, I’ll be sure you get your fill.”

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vampiricgaz · 15 days

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I Was Kidding Part One: The Set-Up (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)

NSFW 18+

Gaz wakes up hungover with little memory of the night before. Luckily, you, his friend, are there to help him piece it together ➔ alcohol consumption, drunkeness, hangovers, jealousy, accidental confessions, making out, mentions of wet dreams

3.7k words

part one part two

Gaz lets out a low groan, his voice but a growl, the vestiges of sleep still lingering in his tone. He rolls over in his bed and pulls the warm sheets up to his chin, nuzzling deeper into his pillow. He feels comfortable. Safe.

A noise somewhere in the distance has him groaning again. He shifts his position, burrowing further into the bundle of plush blankets. He raises his hand to rub at his eyes without opening them, As he does, he feels something that confuses him. Soft yet ticklish. His brows furrow and he tries to bat the offending texture away. Something about it is familiar. But he has no idea why. He especially doesn’t know what it's doing in his bed.

His eyes are as heavy as lead as he blinks them open. Gaz hisses, eyes narrowed in a squinting, vengeful glare at the window. Like if he glared hard enough, it would shatter and break. Golden light streams in, bathing the room in a warm glow. He drops his head back against the pillow and slings an arm over his eyes.

He feels like his skull was being split in two.

"You're awake,"

Kyle nearly jumps from his skin at the sudden voice. He turns to the source and frowns, head cocked to the side in confusion. Is he seeing things? He has to be. There’s no way…

He blinks. He rubs his eyes. He blinks again.

Nope. Still there.

This is real.

He grumbles your name, brows furrowed in confusion, the tip of his nose scrunching up in his bewilderment. "What are you doing here?"

“In my flat?” you ask, your eyes sparkling with that teasing light he’s come to love. “Gee, I wonder.”

“Your flat?” Gaz echoes, brows furrowing. He glances around the room.

The walls are the right colour, the same drab beige as pretty much every flat in London, somewhere between sandpaper and ash. The posters and pictures that decorated the walls are familiar. At least, he thinks. His vision is still blurry. The big tell that this isn’t his room is the window had curtains. Kyle hasn’t had curtains since he accidentally set his on fire in November. His eyesight clears slightly, and he notices other things that don't add up. A shelf full of books. The plants that clutter the windowsill. The desk, not piled up with empty cans and bottles, loose bullets and dull knives. He looks down to the source of the strange texture from earlier and pulls up a small plush. That weird Webkinz that he always thought was a platypus but was apparently something called a ‘Googles’. He lets it drop onto the mattress beside him.

He is, in fact, not in his own room. He blinks dumbly. “Oh.”

You smile softly, handing him some aspirin and a glass of water. He has barely taken the glass from your hand when you’ve fished a little container of MIO from your pocket. You add two drops to the cup and watch him expectantly.

For a moment all he can do is stare back, his heart fluttering in his chest.

That's one thing that he loves about you. The little things you do for people that could be so easily overlooked. But Gaz never overlooked them. In fact, to him, those small acts meant the world. They're what made him fall for you in the first place.

Sure, a lot of people know he isn’t fond of water. He finds it plain. But most would simply hand him a glass and expect him to deal with it. Even Soap, who has known him for so long, doesn’t go out of his way to accommodate Gaz's tastes.

Gaz takes a small sip, wetting his lips which he’s only now realizing are dry. Strawberry Watermelon. His favourite. He finds himself wondering if you bought it just for him.

He takes the pills all at once, downing the rest of the glass in one go. He wipes at his lips with his wrist, staring down at the cup with a dopey grin.

He feels his heart swell, and he opens his mouth to speak only to snap it shut immediately after. He was so close to slipping, so close to saying those three words that would ruin everything.

Three words. It's crazy how three little words could mean so much. Then again, Gaz doubts that all the languages in the world combined have enough words to describe how he feels about you.

You are everything to him.

More important than his job, his team, his family or even the air that he breathes. He would do anything you asked him to without hesitation. It’s almost concerning. He'd probably thinkso if he wasn't so infatuated with you. But he is infatuated with you, truly head over heels, which is why he can never let those three words slip.

Three words. Three words that he has whispered to himself over and over in the dead of night as images of what could be but never would flash before his eyes. A mirage of you lying next to him, nose to nose, giggling at one of his jokes that he knew wasn’t funny. The memory of your touch, the fantasy of your fingers touching places they’ve never touched before. As you smiled up at him through your lashes and he couldn’t help the confession. A breathless whisper.

As soon as it escaped him, the illusion would shatter, as it did every night.

Three words that could change everything. Three words that could take years of friendship and hopeless pining and flush them down the drain. Three simple, stupid, horrible, gut-churning, heart-stopping, life-ending, amazing words.

I love you.

"Do want me to close the drapes?" you ask, taking his low groan as a ‘yes’. you walk over to the large window and pull the heavy curtains shut, filling the room with shadows.

"Better?" you ask, sitting delicately at the foot of the bed.

He grunts, nodding his head, a frown tugging at his lips. "What... What happened last night?"

You smile softly. "How much do you remember?"

Gaz furrows his brows.

Last night? Gaz could remember the mission, the last before break. The Task Force had succeede of course, thanks in large part to him.

Gaz could remember ignoring the officers and personnel after the aircraft touched down on the tarmac. He could remember going through the motions of nodding and thanking and passively agreeing. He could remember when finally, finally, he was able to break away and rush to where you were waiting at the edge of the landing strip.

You were bounding up and down in excitement, hands clasped before your chest. you were shouting, but he couldn’t make out what, the roaring of jet engines successfully drowning your words out. you had shouldered your way through the crowd to access the tarmac, colliding with him in a warm hug. He’d picked you up of the ground, and swung you around, treasuring the moment.

“Way to go!” You'd told him, grinning so wide Gaz had worried it may have hurt. “You did so well!”

He remembered not wanting to let you go, to leave you. But he had to get out of his sweaty clothes. So, with hesitation, he pulled away, and, grabbing one last quick hug, ran off after the rest of the team.

Gaz could remember arriving at the bar with the Task Force to celebrate their win. He could remember when you had arrived with your friends from the Intelligence Department not even ten minutes later. He remembered the way you had looked in your dress. Just thinking back on the memory of it makes Gaz's knees weak, and his chest hurt from yearning. Heat floods his body, the tips of his ears flushing at the memory.

He blinks and swallows, trying to ignore the molten arousal that’s starting to build.

He could remember mingling with people, accepting congratulations and toasts with a smile, you at his side. He remembered the burning jealousy that coursed through his veins when Johnny fucking MacTavish arrived. When you left Gaz's side for Soap... Soap, of all people! Gaz could remember the way his hands had clenched into fists, knuckles white, nails digging into his palms so hard they drew blood, as the Scottsman picked up your hand and pressed his lips against it in a playful greeting.

He remembered glaring at Soap from across the room as he laughed and flirted with you. He remembered the pang in his heart as he'd seen your blush, giggling softly as you placed a hand on Soap’s. He remembered the burning anger intensifying as, after noticing your shivering from the cold, Soap pulled off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders.

Gaz could barely stand the sight.

You looked great in it. Of course you did. you would look good in anything or nothing. He just couldn’t fathom that the jacket wasn’t his. Oh, how wonderful you'd look. For a moment he pictured it was his sweater you were wearing. The colour of it suited you perfectly, looking absolutely adorable with your hands curled at the end of the sleeves in little sweater paws.

The illusion had broken when you’d turned, and he saw Soap’s name where his should have been.

Gaz can remember downing the rest of his bottle and immediately going to get another. He had hoped to drown out the burning jealousy with the burning of whisky. One shot. Then two. Then three. Then he'd moved on to rum. Then vodka. Then tequila. Then... nothing. He was drawing a blank.

"How did I get here?" he asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

"Well, after what must've been your twentieth round of drinks, you were really out of it," you begin to tell the story, the soft smile gracing your lips a stark contrast to the emotions that are swirling in your eyes. Confusion. Concern. Guilt. Did you think this was your fault? He hopes you don't think this is your fault. "You then proceeded to stumble your way over to Soap and me."

Gaz can’t help the low growl that rumbles from deep within his chest at the mere mention of Johnny’s name. Jealousy and rage course through his veins like lightning, something primal stirring within him. You shoot him a look but don't press.

“One second, he and I are dancing, the next you have him up against the wall, shouting until you’re breathless. You threw him down and started to, like, choke him out. By the time Price was able to separate you you’d chipped one of his teeth, busted his lip and his nose.”

"Okay," Gaz nods. He can vaguely remember that. Not his best moment. Soap would never let him forget it. “But how did I get here?"

"I'm getting there," you tell him with a roll of your eyes. "You were obviously wasted so I told you I’d be taking you home. You refused, told me that you were going to get your dick wet and that I couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

Gaz buries his face in his hands. “God I’m sorry.”

You don’t acknowledge his apology, simply continuing with your tale. “You stumbled around the party for another half hour after that, downing whatever you could get your hands on. I tried a number of times to get you to leave but you kept telling me ‘the night is young, baby!’ Then you threw up on Ghost’s dog and the bartender cut you off... I tried to say goodbye to everyone before leaving with you, but anytime I got close to someone, you would snarl at them and try to start a fight,"

He grabs his head between his hands. He could remember that. God, how stupid had he been?

"So eventually, I gave up and told Kate to do it for me, and I started to take you home," you smile softly and reach out to run a hand over his hair in an attempt to comfort him. Gaz hates how well it works; he melts into your touch immediately. "But you denied it and said that the only way I could get you to leave would be if I took you home with me," You gesture around the room, "and so here we are,"

"Oh God, you... I'm so sorry," he says, regret pooling in his eyes as equal parts guilt and shame bubble up in his stomach.

"Don't worry about it," you wave him off. "Parties aren't really my scene anyways. You should really be apologizing to Ghost and Riley. They’re the real victims here."

"I didn't..." he trails off for a moment, unsure of how he wants to word his next question. "I didn't say or do anything stupid to you, did I?"

"Well, I guess there's one thing..." you hum, tapping your chin with your index finger.

His eyes widen in panic, and he’s overcome with dread. "What? What did I do?"

"You professed your undying love to me, and we preceded to have hot, carnal sex until the wee hours of the morning,"

Kyle, far too hungover and caught up in a mess of his own anxieties to notice your teasing tone nor the mischievous glint in your eyes, pales. "Oh my God... I'm so sorry... Believe me; this isn't how I wanted this to go. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out in such a way. I-I... I love you so much, and I... God, I'm so fucking stupid."

When he looks up to meet your gaze, he can tell you’re surprised by his admission. Eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouth dropped open to form a small ‘o’.

His lip trembles. "W-what?"

"I was kidding," you say.

"Oh," Gaz mutters, his voice wavering. "So we didn't...?"

"No," you shake your head, answering the unspoken question. "You passed out the second we got through the door. I had to practically drag you into bed."

He swallows hard, unable to meet your gaze.

"So..." You started hesitantly. "You love me, huh?"

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

You nod in response, pursing your lips. "Alright."

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," He says, his voice cracking with overwhelming emotions. "I wasn't going to tell you at all. I don't want to ruin our friendship..."

Gaz hiccupps, furiously rubbing away his tears with the back of his hand. "I just can't help it! I've tried to stop liking you, I've tried so hard! But you're so smart and kind. You're an amazing cook, and you're insanely fucking funny, it's unreal. Not to mention beautiful, God, you're so fucking beautiful it's not even fair! It's like every time I see you is the first time. Like the air is being torn from my lungs, and I'm being picked apart and put back together over and over again, and I love it. I love you so much, and I think I always have."

He lets out a noise that lies somewhere between a laugh and a sob, gripping his head so hard that you wince just seeing him do it. But he doesn’t feel it. He can’t even feel the ache in his head anymore. All he can feel is the sinking in his gut and the pain in his heart. "I know that you don't feel the same way, and I know that you hate me now. And I'm just... I'm sorry, I’m so sorry."

Gaz feels the bed shift as you move to sit beside him. He turns his head away and tries to shrink in on himself, to make himself as small as possible in the hopes that he might disappear completely.

You take his chin gently in your hand and turned his head so that you’re both facing each other. Gaz wishes that he could hide from the soft look in your eyes. He knows what’s coming. He hated this part.

Kyle feels like throwing up, and not because of his hangover. He can only wish that you will let him down gently. His heart wouldn’t be able to take much more than that. It’s already splintering, sending painful shards all throughout his chest. He doubts it would ever be whole again.

And yet, despite everything, Gaz finds himself melting into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut on instinct. You've always had this effect on him, and he knows that you always will.

"I don't hate you, Kyle" Your voice is gentle and calm.

He blinks up at you through his tears. "You don't?"

"No," you shake your head, offering him a soft smile. "In fact..."

You lean in close, tilting your head to the side. Gaz's heart stops working, and his breath catches in his throat.

He doesn’t even register that you’re kissing him until a moment later. When his lungs kick back in, and he can inhale again. He's always felt giddy when he was with you, but now he feels like he is flying. Gaz, overeager and sloppy, accidentally knocks the tip of his nose into yours, as he returns the kiss feverishly. His heart feels as if it is dropping down a bottomless pit. Like it’s sinking deeper and deeper while his head becomes lighter and lighter.

You kiss him passionately, your hands reaching out to touch and hold. Gaz's hands latch onto your waist as he pulls you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. His fingers tugg at the hem of your shirt, clawing desperately at anything he can reach with trembling, shaky hands. Your hands slide up his sides and neck, stopping a moment to cup his face as you deepen the kiss. Then your hands drift higher, and you dig your fingers into his dark hair, nails dragging across the scalp. Black curls tangled around your fingers, you give his hair a gentle tug and Gaz can't help the whimpering moan that escapes his lips. He pulls you in closer until your bodies are pressed so tightly together that you practically became one.

Gaz's head is a mess. So much so that he can’t keep track of where his hands are supposed to go, or how he is being kissed. So much has happened in so little time. He is completely overwhelmed in the best possible way.

He wants to burn this into his memory forever. The pressure of your soft lips against his, the warmth of your body as you press against him, the weight of you comfortable and perfect on him, the plush of your thighs on his lap. Gaz wants to be able to remember this forever, when he’s scared or alone in the dark of night. When he’s out on a mission, unsure if he’ll ever make it back home. Home to you. Whenever his depression gets so bad he couldn’t think of anything to live for. When the memories of the things he’s done and the things he’s seen become too much. This is something to live for. The only thing.

He prays to whatever spirit there may be out there that this won't be the last time he'll get to touch you like this. That he won’t open his eyes only to find out that it was another cruel, torturous dream. That you won’t pull away from him and laugh.

If this is the last time, if this is a dream, if this is some heinous joke, Gaz doesn't care. He can’t bring himself to. Not when you’re in his lap, lips slotted against his, breath hot and heavy against sweaty, kiss swollen lips. He is going to make the most of this.

He runs his tongue against your lips, and you oblige, parting them slowly. Gaz grins into the kiss as he let his tongue explore your mouth, intertwining it with your own, like he’s trying to tie your tongues together, as he tries to swallow his sounds. He savours the feeling and the taste of you, and he knows that nothing else will ever satisfy him again.

When you let out a moan against his lips, Gaz can’t help but to roll his hips in response. You let out a soft gasp that quickly turns into a groan as he deepens the kiss further. Noses bumping into each other. Teeth clashing. Hands grabbing at anything that they can reach.

Gaz is out of control in the best possible way. Holding you in his arms. Kissing you. Making your his. It is more intoxicating than any alcohol he's ever had in his life. And he’s had a lot.

When you pull back for air, your chest is heaving, and your cheeks are flushed.

Gaz chases after you desperately. He feels like he can’t breathe without you, like without your lips on his, he'll suffocate and die.

You give him a quick kiss, holding it for no more than a second before backing away once more.

He draws in an uneven breath and stares up at you through a daze of wonder and disbelief. Your lips are swollen and red. A string of saliva runs from your mouth to his own, connecting you in the most delicious way. The spit snaps, falling down to him and only then does he realize that his chin is slick with a mixture of your combined spit, dribbling down his neck and soaking into his shirt.

A shiver runs up his spine, sending shock waves through his entire body. He can’t remember ever feeling so good.

"So," Gaz swallows, a deep blush staining his cheeks, flushed with heat of arousal.

"I love you too, dummy," you laugh breathlessly before leaning in and capturing his lips once more.

Gaz grins into the kiss, gripping your waist as you pressed your hips harder against his. He flips you over, pining you beneath him. He pulls back for a moment to admire the sight. He dives back into the kiss with renewed passion, hands sliding down to grab at your ass, taking greedy handfuls of the fat as he moans into your mouth.

Who knew that a drunken night could have turned out so well?

please comment and reblog to support my writing!

Masterlist!

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vampiricgaz · 20 days

Note

I think I can try to answer anons questions about the characterizations. Apologies in advance because this is LOOOOOONG.

First things first, to be in the SAS means more than just being a soldier. The British SAS are the literal top of the top, cream of the crop of their special forces. They are compared a lot with DEVGRU (seals) and Delta Force. Less than 1% of armed forces members can pass selection and complete their training. They are all, in their own ways, very hardened individuals. They’re all extremely intelligent in several skills, and equally competent. (This isn’t to stroke off the special forces. They are not superhuman and are never immune to dying from their own mistakes or pure bad luck. It’s extremely dangerous to be in counter terrorism or do raids like they do, and a not insignificant amount die of dumb mistakes or unavoidable circumstances. But they’re not to be fucked with either)

Soap is sniper, demolitions expert. These require math skills and chemical knowledge. He’s intelligent, stoic sometimes but more spirited. He wants to help. He gets angry when bad things happen, and he seems to really care about civilians. He’s got a strong sense of right and wrong, and voices his opinions always. He pushes buttons and boundaries, but he’s no braggart. Equally, he is intense. His humour is actually kinda dry and teasing, banter style humour. He’s not actually very silly.

Ghost is more ambiguous. He’s more rugged and detached. More introverted. He only starts joking with soap in alone, more than halfway through the game, so his trust is gained through time and effort. His humour is dry, sometimes dad jokes and sometimes fucked up jokes. Overall, he’s emotionally detached and goal oriented. He’s got a bit of the sillies though, just a taste.

Gaz is an extremely important main character. He was vital in all games, including the first mw reboot game in 2019, his character was made before soap and ghosts were. (Which is why his deliberate exclusion is a goddamn travesty). He’s spirited and strong, his skills of resistance to interrogation, escape and evasion, as well as VIP protection means he’s an intelligent independent mind. While injustices anger him, he’s got a level head and can cede to reason and keep that anger supressed, as well as be an important voice of reason. He can also be sympathetic and guiding, as seen in the mission where he guides a civilian through an extremely dangerous situation to safety.

Captain price is a staple character for the series. He’s confident but also slightly unhinged. He’s experienced, maybe a bit detached, he doesn’t give a god damn about consequences unless he gets what he wants or completes his goal. He will throw every law out the window. He will abandon basic morals and principles. He’s extremely dangerous and not to be fucked with or questioned. Hes called John “war crimes” price by the fandom for a reason. He has his more gentle side, but it’s rare and he will only show it to people he seems worthy of it, like Farah Karim or Kate laswell. He saves people but he does it roughly, he never seems to handle civilians with kid gloves, and he’s kinda rough and detached from them. He’ll save your life, but he’ll probably break your arm in the process and definitely won’t apologize for it. It’s important to note he knows what he does is fucked up. He knows people don’t like it. He gives people a way out, lets them choose if they really want to fully jump in the mud with him. He also smokes cigars with car windows rolled up. Absolutely evil action. He’s also my favourite and I love him in a way that you love a grizzly bear.

Obligatory Kate mention. Kate is a cia agent who is basically the leash that keeps John from acting out too hard. She reins them in, keeps them informed. She’s level headed and a quick thinker. She knows how the game of war is played, when and how to play by and within the rules and keeps everyone from breaking them in ways that could spiral out of control. She also knows when to let them do shady shit, and how to get them out of the messes they get themselves into. She is a very strong character, mainly in mind but also in body, and will get her hands dirty if she has to.

TLDR these are deceptively complicated characters, as in, it’s easy to mistake them as pretty surface level. They’re also easy to mistake with their fanon characterizations, which while fun, are often headcanons that the fandom has taken and run with. They’re also, not always very accurate depictions of the characters. If you wanna write them right, you gotta watch and listen to their mission dialogue.

These are generally simplified introductions based on what I observed playing the games.

Tip and trick, if you’re writing a dialogue line, imagine the characters voice saying it out loud. Say it out loud yourself. If you can fully hear the character saying the line, it’s probably a great line. If you can’t picture them saying it, tweak it until you can. This helps me a lot.

Thank you :)

Also love the kate mention

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vampiricgaz · 21 days

Text

A Break (ft Robyn)

They're eating ice potong :P

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vampiricgaz · 21 days

Text

System error: android!reader x kyle gaz garrick

You had to get into contact with your engineer.

Something had short circuited when you were at the pub with the others. You had felt a little too warm when Sergeant Garrick had touched you and suggested that you stay despite having done what you were asked to do.

You didn't understand it. Not the way that they had continued to want to bond with you or the way that your processors reacted to it.

Something must've gotten corrupted when you researched how to act in a pub setting. You knew that if you didn't delete the information off of your hard drives, your engineers would be upset but it had to stay in order for them to figure out what the issue was.

They'll scrap you for it but it was for the best. Your job still needed to be done and if you were malfunctioning then you needed to be replaced.

You were on your way to your office to get into contact with them when you saw Gaz waiting outside your door.

You weren't sure what to do as he gave you a smile, one that made you stop what you were doing, and you watched him carefully as he came up to you.

"I was wondering where you went, I wanted to invite you to lunch." He offered and your processors froze. "Unless you already ate."

"Why?" You asked and he raised an eyebrow.

"Just trying to be friendly is all."

Friendly. You understood that the reason why he was trying to be friendly was because he saw you as a person and not a machine, an oversight on those who designed you, and now it was becoming a problem. They must've not expected any of them to be considerate enough to want to make a connection with you, which to you seemed to be a massive mistake.

These men made connections with everyone, you didn't need to read through their records to know that.

What were they thinking? What were you thinking?

You don't think. That's not possible.

You blinked a couple times, frozen in your spot as your processors raced to compute a response as well as make sense of what exactly was going on inside you.

Meanwhile Gaz stood in front of you with slight concern and confusion as you stared at him with the same wide eyed look you had last night at the pub.

"It's okay if you don't want to." He assured you and you blinked a couple times. "I'm not trying to put you on the spot."

For some reason you didn't want to disappoint him. He was making an effort to befriend you and it would be for the betterment of everyone if you were on good terms with them. It would make everything easier and yet his effort was frying your circuits.

Instead of telling him no you did the unthinkable.

You lied.

"I have already eaten but I will join you, Sergeant Garrick." You told him in a split second, unable to really understand why you said what you did.

"Great." He nodded for you to follow him. "And you can just call me Gaz, don't have to be formal with me."

You nodded and filed that information away as you walked beside him. You tried to pay attention to what he was saying but you were focusing hard on trying to sort out whatever was causing everything to go haywire within you.

It had to be a corrupt file. A virus maybe. Something was breaking everything inside of you and making you do things you weren't programmed to do.

After lunch you had to fix the issue.

"I'm glad you decided to join me." Gaz caught your attention again. "Was a little worried about you."

"You were worried about me?" You couldn't help but be confused.

Gaz gave you a sympathetic look. His eyes turned serious as he glanced back at your office and nodded.

"Yeah...you spend a lot of time in your office working. This job takes a lot out of you and I've seen it eat people alive." He explained and your eyebrows knitted together. "So I'm worried."

"But you don't know me." You pointed out. It's not like he could get to know you, there was nothing to figure out considering you were just a set of walking code.

Gaz shrugged.

"Well I'm trying to right now."

You felt something from that. You're not sure what the feeling was but you knew that you felt something as the wires and the fans inside your whirred to life. It sent something through you and you could feel everything inside become overwhelmed.

This wasn't supposed to happen and unfortunately it was because of Gaz.

"I have to leave." You turned around, hoping to get to your office before everything inside you combusted.

"Wait-"

It was almost immediate that your processors forced a shut down. Your entire body slammed against the floor with a loud metal bang.

A/n: i too would breakdown if Gaz asked me to lunch (i still don't know how to write androids lol it might get better)

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vampiricgaz · 22 days

Text

transfem!gaz for the sapphics !! twitter loved this so I thought of posting it on tumblr as well

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #cod fanart #fanart #gaz fanart

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vampiricgaz · 1 month

Text

Silent- Gaz x plus size reader

Summary : Finding a way to relieve the stress of work in a DnD discord, Gaz meets Silent. A player whose microphone is always turned off, using chat only. Maybe he'll find a way to break the silence with them and finds why their mic is off…

(Sorry in advance, English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad or OOC.)

-TW social anxiety.

-"What a quiet kid you've got there. I wish mine was as calm at home."

-"Oh, you know, they're pretty mature for their age."

-The laughter faded into distant murmurs as I glanced over at the other kids.

-Yelling, chasing, breaking a vase or two—my eyes couldn't look away from them.

-They seemed to inhabit a world entirely different from mine.

-A world where scraping by at month's end, nightly dinners, locking up the house, solo bus rides, laundry routines, and helping siblings with homework simply didn't exist.

-Because, after all, they were just eight years old.

- But so was I…

-So why didn't I have the right to have fun, yell, chat, ask for sweets, act immature, or doodle on walls?

- My hand reached out briefly, hoping for a connection, but my mom's glance quickly reminded me to stay put…

-Being silent seemed to be the key to earning praise and keeping peace.

-So, I stifled that urge, withdrawing into myself, standing alone behind her legs, engulfed in a heavy silence.

____________

"Silent, huh?"

-My gaze drifted slowly to the chat.

-"Yeah, dude, they're usually a regular on Thursdays. Never says a word, their mic's busted, can't afford to fix it," one of the guys responded.

-The tone carried a hint of disdain.

-I felt out of place.

-Yet, I stayed put, unable to leave the server.

-It was the only place where I felt I could express myself.

-Through words, carefully chosen, controlled, retyped, erased, and sculpted to bring a story to life—a space where my imagination, so often overlooked, could finally roam free.

-By chance, I'd become enamored with Dungeons and Dragons.

- The only snag, of course, was the void in my social life.

-So, like figuring out how long it takes to cook broccoli, I scoured the internet.

- Discord groups organized sessions. I panicked at the sound of mics, voices.

- What would they think of me? What should I say? What could I do? And then someone asked if my mic was broken.

- Ever since, I'd stayed that way, and the nickname Silent stuck.

"Hi Silent, then :) I'm Kyle aka Gaz."

-Usually, I ignored introductions.

- People interested me little, their characters were the interesting ones.

-However, Gaz hadn't spoken those words aloud.

- He had written them. It was stupid honestly, but few people wrote back to me, few people responded to me in writing.

-Everything was done orally.

-Suddenly, someone was on my turf, reaching out.

-The campaign proceeded as usual.

-My thoughts were focused on my actions, the dice rolls, and the resulting outcomes.

- Yet occasionally, I let my eyes wander over Gaz's profile.

________________

-"Hello guys, I don't know if I've played with some of you before or not. "

-"Don't worry, we accept everyone. The days are rarely fixed."

-Gaz was back. It was Friday. It was my favorite group, the game master Ylias really managed to transport you.

-"Well, I'll start then-"

-Ylias started rambling, I followed the story when I noticed a notification in the discord. My finger brushed it, and then ignored it.

-What would he think if I clicked now? that I'm a friendless attention-seeker? But if I wait, they'll think I don't care about the campaign?

-So I waited 5 minutes, trying to find the right balance between the two.

-"Hey, Silent. I missed a campaign without you, the others keep on rambling about their athletics, last time I even had a guy mimicking a goblin with his mic, I'm glad to see you back in text :) !!!"

-Pressure flooded over me. What should I reply? A heart? Thanks? Ignore it? Tell him he's nice too?

-"Thanks."

-Too cold, too short. I thought it wrong, I should delete it, rephrase it, add a smiley, make it warmer, he must think I'm a monster.

-"I think we should try opening the door, are you coming with me? I don’t feel like going into the forest with the rest of the team."

-Oh. Usually in campaigns, I go with the flow, I heal and stay in the background. I never-

-"You need a score of 13 for that, folks". Ylias said.

-"Come on, Silent, roll the dice." Gaz replied

-Nervously, my mouse hovered over the virtual dice. With a score of 15 showing, I heard Gaz's laughter.

-"I knew we had to do it! Let’s go, plus with your stealth, impossible to get spotted. "

-"We'll see about that." Ylias replied, laughing.

-And just like that, Gaz made me smile. It was probably one of the worst campaigns, but it was the first where I could finally choose my actions.

__________________________

-"Back again :) ?"

-" Yes."

-Dry, too dry.

-"I was waiting for you. "Gaz replied.

-" Why? "

-"I don’t want to play a campaign without you, you bring me luck."

-" I'm not sure about that. "

-"Yes. I tried a campaign with colleagues, we died blowing up. "

-"Probably because of your colleagues. "

-"Okay, maybe my colleague set fire to a mystery barrel. But it was their first campaign. "

-"You're recruiting? "

-"Introducing them. He's trying to quit smoking, and I thought DnD could occupy his free time."

-I stopped myself.

-Curiosity, imagination, everything overwhelmed me.

-What was it like to be close to colleagues like this, to freely discuss your passions, to laugh…

-"And then?"

-" It's not his thing, he's more into action. "

-"I see. "

-"It's not for everyone. "

-"Is it your thing? "

-"What? "

-"To let off steam? If your colleague needs it, so do you, right?"

-Stupid. Too personal a question. Invasive.

-"Yes. It allows me not to think, to be someone else."

-" Me too."

-" Plus, being an elf is great."

-" You say that because I am one."

-" Maybe. "

-"Thank you. "

-"For? "

-"Talking in chat. People usually ignore me outside of campaigns, they don't respond by text."

-" They ignore the sexiest elf?"

-" There's no image, you don't know what I look like"

-". Hm, exactly! I imagine your elf tall, muscular like the Rock, hair like Gordon Ramsay's, and maybe makeup like Ru Paul's."

-" I'm not sure about the result. "

-"Sexy."

-I snorted at my screen.

-"Ok."

-" How do you imagine me? "

-"Your wizard? "

-"Yes. "

-"With long hair, maybe dreadlocks, white eyes, and a smile. "

-"A smile?"

-" Your voice sounds soothing. "

-"Really? "

-"Yes, sorry, it's weird to say that, I shouldn't have."

-" No. No. I've never been told that, I was just surprised, that's all."

-" I see. "

-"So, a sexy elf and a smiling mage.

-"Sounds like the beginning of a weird porno."

-He responded with a meme.

_________________________

-"So, what do we decide, Silent? Honestly, I don't want to raid the goblin but the vampire to face, I'm sure the score will be high." Gaz asked through his mic

-"It's your choice, not mine."

-"they're right, Gaz, this one's all on you," Ylias said.

-"Can't I even ask for help?"

-"Score of 15 in insight to spot an ally." Ylias announced.

-Gaz scored a 10. No one addressed me throughout the campaign.

________________________

-"Back, Gaz?" someone said.

-Three weeks of radio silence.

-My mind had been looping, wondering if my refusal to break the rules had driven him to find a more interesting group, a more exciting duo.

-But there he stood, his username glowing green.

-"Yeah, I finally got some days off."

-"Good for you, man."

-"So spill, I see some new names and all!"

-Strangely, his voice had become grating to me. I didn't understand why, so before he could reach me, I disconnected.

- Alone in my apartment, I held my knees to my chest.

-Why am I reacting like this? He's entitled to a life, damn it.

-I fet like he...gave me up.

-Shit it's stupid.

-I didn't understand. I tried to calm myself, but the deafening silence of my apartment seemed to slowly engulf me, and before I knew it, I found myself in a new spiral of anxiety.

____________________________

-There were no campaigns. I just liked reading. Reading what had happened. Living vicariously, imagining their voices, their reactions.

-"hey :)"

-The off-campaign tab was blinking.

-He was addressing me, I knew it, I was the only one online with him.

-My thumb grazed the notification, but I ended up entering the chat.

-"hey."

The period was too harsh, too dry.

-"It's been a while! Something happened?"

-"Work." I answered.

-That's a lie.

- But lying is like oxygen, it's easy to come up with excuses to avoid others.

-But harder to let go of it to face the potential risks of social suffocation.

-"I know quite a bit, just got back from mine."

-"At 1 am?"

-"Yep."

-"Cook?"

"Soldier."

-A shiver ran through me. Uniforms had never been positive in my life.

- As the long seconds passed, I hesitated.

-"Not a fan?" Gaz asked.

-"You could say that."

-"Military family?"he asked.

-"yes."

-"I see."

-"Sorry, that's stupid."

-"No, I understand, I mean, we all have red flags." He said.

-"It's not a red flag."

-"You'd been quiet for 5 minutes."

-"With everyone." I answered.

-"Everyone?"

-"I'm not the best at socializing."

-"Really? Yet when you blew up a castle instead of talking to the princess in a campaign, it seemed normal to me." He joked.

-A laugh escaped.

-"And you?" he asked.

-"Me?"

-"Your job?"

-"Proofreader."

-"For books?"

-"Yes, I read, annotate, and correct."

-"No humans."

-"Exactly."

-"Would you like to add me? I'm not super comfortable with everyone seeing this."

-"Why?"

-Stupid. I should have accepted without questioning.

-"To prevent everyone from knowing the secrets of the sexiest elf on the discord."

-Always there to catch my blunders.

-I accepted it even though suddenly there was added pressure, what to say when there's a pause?

_____________

-"A dragon arrives and—"

-My eyes glanced at my notifications. Kyle was in the campaign but—

-"The narration is terrible, isn't it? The guy has been stuck on the dragon for thirty minutes while Théis killed it."

-He was writing to me. Like someone whispering in your ear during class.

-"Yes, Roxanne is a beginner, but she'll get there."

-"So kind."

-"Not really, one day I insulted a game master."

-"Oooh, a gangster among us?"

-"Never, besides, you'd arrest me, wouldn't you?"

-The ellipses seemed to linger.

-"I wouldn't mind."

-Oh.

-"I don't want to end up in a secret government cave."

-"Caves are old school, we have containers now."

-"I don't know if you're joking."

-"Classified."

-"Gaz…"

-"I'll keep the secret, I think you won't have a choice but to be arrested by me someday."

-"… it won't happen."

-"Why?"

-"I haven't committed any crimes."

-"Not even indecent exposure? I thought you were 45 years old and hiding in bushes naked."

-"For that, I'd have to leave my house."

-"Quite the homebody?"

-"You could say."

-"I'm the same, I don't like going out much."

-It's different. I didn't know what to add, so I let him continue the conversation.

-----------------------------

-"Still into your nerd stuff?"

-Gaz looked up at Soap.

-"It's not nerd stuff." Gaz said.

-"Dragon, princess, elf, discord all mixed together. It's nerd stuff. "Ghost replied

-"Dressing up as a skeleton at Hot Topic too, L.t."

-"Ooh, I wouldn't have liked that. "Soap laughed. "But seriously, don't you think about doing it for real? I mean, gathering around a table."

-"They think about it, but we all live in different parts of the world."

-But it would be amazing. Maybe he could even hear Silent's voice, see them…

-"Hm." Johnny said with a smirk

-"What?"

-"It sounds like you have someone in mind."

-"I don't have anyone in mind."

-"Not even an elf you get along with, Garrick?" Ghost retorted

-"I- we're a duo, it

-"It's different."

-"I mean it, we just get along."

-"So if you check discord in a military bar at 11 p.m., it's not to reply to him second by second?"

-"Shut up," Gaz said as the two laughed.

__________________________

-"You're not participating anymore?"

-I ignored his message.

-Three months.

-Three long months of descent, of confinement, of discomfort, of crises.

-Everything was too much.

-Crowds, outside, errands, people.

-My lungs constricted at the thought of meeting someone's gaze. My eyes avoided every contact. My lips were dry from lack of words.

-"I admit that campaigns suck without you," he had written.

-That was two weeks ago.

-"I refused to play with Théo, he wanted to take your place," he had sent.

-That was three months ago.

-"The office GIF."

-Three weeks.

-He… Gaz had never stopped.

-No matter the views, the winds, his boldness didn't stop.

-I was confused.

-Usually, people quit after a month.

-They had better things to do, and I understood. The burden of my social anxiety was mine and shouldn't inconvenience them.

-So why was Gaz standing there carrying this burden unknowingly? Coming back every day, bearing a heavier load…

-"hey."

-Three letters.

-Too short.

-Too dry.

-"Sorry." I continued.

-For what?

-I didn't deserve his forgiveness, I knew it.

-"Glad to see you're back :)" he replied.

-A tear rolled down my cheek.

-"thank you." I replied by text.

-For staying.

-For not asking questions.

-For welcoming me.

______________

-"Sorry, I was at the hospital, do you think I can join the campaign or not?" he had sent.

-My eyebrows raised.

-"No. Wait, you're just out of the hospital and your concern is DnD?"

-"I should really stay by my favorite elf's side."

-"Gaz, seriously, are you okay?"

-"Fractured ribs."

-"Ouch."

-"Broken arm."

-"Wait, what—"

-"And a bullet in the thigh."

-"Wtf."

-"But I'm fine."

-"No."

-"I assure you, I've had worse."

-"And???? You need to rest, not focus on rolling dice to defeat Mindflyers."

-"…but I have no distractions."

-"I'm here."

-"You're in the campaign."

-"No."

-"Wait, what—"

-"I- I saw you were absent so I didn't…join that one."

-"But you only play on that day."

-"I know. But it's not the same without you."

-I didn't know he was currently smiling like an idiot.

-"Thanks, Silent."

-"No worries. Besides, I was also coming out of the hospital."

-"WHAT?! Why didn't you start with that?!"

-"It's ridiculous."

-"No, are you okay?"

-"It's awkward."

-"Oh, serious awkward or-?"

-"No, I'm used to it. I- I took the tram and I couldn't handle it, the crowd was too big, I passed out inconveniencing a hundred people, embarrassing."

-"That's not embarrassing."

-"Yes, I made people late, Gaz."

-"And??? It was for your health."

-"No, I should've known I couldn't handle taking the tram. It's been two years since I couldn't do it, I shouldn't have tried again."

-"Two years?"

-Shit. I said too much.

-"Forget that."

-"Wait, no. You help distract me when I'm on base, I can listen to you in return :)! "

-"There's nothing to say, I don't handle social stuff, that's all."

-"So, your mic, that's it?"

-"Yes."

-"My sister has it too."

-"Has what?"

-"Social anxiety."

-"I see."

-"I know it's different for everyone, but don't give up. Honestly, it's a huge step, right? Taking the tram after two years. Surely you wouldn't succeed all at once, I mean it's like rolling a 20-sided die hoping for a 35."

-I snorted.

-"Nerd."

-"You're a nerd too, Silent."

-"yes, I- I just thought I could succeed, tell myself I could do it."

-"You did it."

-"I passed out."

-"So what? next time can't be worse."

-"Yes, if I have another one."

-"Then you'll have another one, I'm sure you'll manage. Look, I can even show you a tutorial."

-I furrowed my brows and saw a video. A man in an apartment, a cast on one arm, his face cut off from the frame.

-"Quick tutorial for falling on a tram. So lesson 1, stand next to a tall person. We want a good pillow when we fall, so tall people are perfect. Then manage the fall. Fall on the person, not forward. We want to avoid a bloody nose. Especially if there are vampires on the horizon." Gaz said in the video.

-He lay on the ground pretending to fall.

-"Step three, play dead to see sexy firefighters and avoid stares, and step 4 get taken home while flexing in the truck."

-I snorted.

-"Wow, thanks for the tutorial."

-"I know, I know. Passing out pro here."

-"Do you often fall on fridges?"

-"Hm, considering the build of my colleagues, you could say that."

-"Are they as tall and wide as a fridge?"

-"My L.T. yes. With Soap, we even thought he was an android, I mean it's not human to be that built."

-"You look fit too."

-"Oh, a compliment?"

-"Gaz, I-"

-"But yes, honestly, I try to do his routine but I think his genetics play a big part."

-"Shame, no Fridge Gaz then."

-"No, you'll have to settle for Normal Gaz."

-A smile slowly spread across my face.

-"Thanks for the video, it was funny."

-"You're welcome. Plus, if I can flex with my favorite elf."

-"I'm not an elf."

-"Nothing proves me wrong."

-"Gaaaaaazzzz"

____________________________

-"Who are you posing for? "

-"No one."

-" So shirtless, sunlight, flexed arms for no one? Damn, don't tell me it's for your mom. "

-"SOAP!"

-" I'm just asking, man."

-" It's for Silent. "

-"Oh, your magical voiceless elf."

-" It's not— "

-"Yes, yes, not a magical elf, I know, no need to give me another DnD lecture."

-Gaz sighed.

-His selfie was good.

-Shirtless, in the sand, sun rising.

-He looked good.

-But he was nervous.

-What if it was too much?

-After all, this little game of sending each other sunrises or sunsets had started by chance.

-Silent had told him the view was beautiful and sent him a sunset from their window.

-Gaz replied with one from Las Almas, and eventually whenever he went to a new country, he would send a photo.

-But now… maybe it was too much?

-Sending his face.

-Price would kill him.

-But he wanted to progress the relationship.

-Maybe his face could appeal to Silent, they would send him a voice note or even a selfie back?

-"Is this too much? "

-"Hm? "Soap asked confused.

-"This photo, is it too much? "

-"For a thirst trap?"

-" To say hello."

-" It depends on the hello. "

-"Hello as in "I'm showing you my face for the first time." "

-"Oh, maybe. I thought it was a "hello, did you sleep well because look what I could bring to your bed" kind of thing. …But if I received this photo, I'd be happy. "

-"Soap. "

-"I mean, man, you're handsome."

-" Soap. "

-"Plus, who would say no to your abs? "

-"No need to- you know what, I'll send it. "

-"Also, you—"

-Gaz ignored him and sent it.

-Damn, he hoped everything would be fine.

________________________

-Beautiful.

-Too beautiful.

-My eyes scanned that smile not knowing what to do.

- How could someone like that end up playing DnD?

-I closed the conversation.

-I am…. Out of his league.

-So much.

-I could barely bring myself to look at my mirror.

-I knew what I would see there.

- My rolls, my thighs, my stretch marks, my horrible hair, this disproportionate face.

-I'm not ugly.

- But I'm not…I'm not like him

-. I'm the second choice, I'm aware of that.

-I don't get free compliments.

- Nobody turns back to look at me. I'm just…there.

-And him.

- He seemed so radiant, so kind. Damn, I wasted his time.

__________________________

-"So? " Soap asked

-"It's been two weeks with no response."

-" Ouch. "

-"It's not— Sometimes it happens, I think they are doubting."

-" Doubting what? "

-"Themselves. They…before every message, they take 5 minutes to rewrite it, every syllable is thought out and then I send this out of nowhere, I didn't handle it well."

-" You couldn't have known, Kyle. "

-"Yes. YES, I could and I messed up. They told me about their anxiety and then I send them a half-naked photo when I've never even heard their voice. "

-"Try to talk to them then. hmph."

_____________________

-"hey."

-My eyes hesitated.

-"hey." I finally replied

-" For the selfie, I can explain. "

-"No, I- it's not your fault."

-" Yes, honestly, I screwed up" he texted back

-". No, I've been looping again. "

-"You- "

-"seeing you, it was…good, really, but too good." I answered.

-" Too good?"

-"I feel- Illegitimate to talk to you. "

-"what- "

-"You're so- beautiful, and smiling and nice, and the only thing I do is disappear for days and turn up out of the blue. I-"

-" And it's okay, we talked about it." he said.

-" But you deserve better as friends."

-" I decide what I deserve, Silent. And no one beats you. "

-"…I- I don't know what to say. "

-"Send me your sunset :) I haven't had mine."

-Damn. A tear rolled down and I took my phone and sent my sunset. How can someone be so adorable?

-"Perfect." he replied

_________________

-He had continued to send his face on the sunsets. It was stupid, but I waited every time he could and I rewatched them.

-However, it had been three months of silence. I wasn't worried, he was probably on a mission somewhere.

-By a stroke of courage, I had put my phone down to take a photo with the sunset.

-He wouldn't see it. I would delete it.

-But for a moment, I felt beautiful. The sunlight on me warmed me, my outfit was cute, my curves were beautiful.

-I sent it. I would delete it tomorrow. After all, Kyle had said it could last four months.

___________

-"Hey, everything alright, mate?"

-"They're amazing."

-"Lasswell or tony ? For Lasswell of course, why do you think her wife is—"

-"Look."

-Soap raised an eyebrow and glanced at Kyle's phone.

-"Oh, oh."

-Kyle couldn't tear his eyes away from his screen

-. During the mission return, he had picked up his phone and seen a notification. Clicking out of habit, he saw it.

-their smile, their hair, their body. My god.

-"Lucky bastard." Soap said.

-They were perfect. And their belly, their hips, everything was beautiful. Kyle had always preferred curvy people, it was a fact.

-Sure, he had imagined that silently they could be one, but the fact that it was true… It filled his heart with joy.

-"They… damn. "he murmured, zooming in on every detail.

-Mole or freckle, he observed every pixel.

_____________________

-"So the elf wasn't the only one sexy." he texted.

-I raised an eyebrow at the notification as I woke up.

-"Hm?"

-"The photo. "he replied.

-Oh fuck.

-"You saw it?"

-"Yes, I shouldn't have?"

-"I thought of deleting it before, I—"

-"Oh."

-"But did you like it?"

-"Yes. you— I— honestly, I can't stop looking at it. you look radiant."

-He was lying. -No?

-"And that outfit is amazing on you, really."

-It hugs everything, why… why is he complimenting that?

-Usually, people say "those jeans make you look thinner than you are" "you look better in loose clothes" "hide your rolls".

-"Thank you."

-" I have to admit I'm so relieved. I mean if you ended up being a 40-year-old, I wouldn't have been so confident I think."

-"Oh really, wrinkles and gray hair aren't your thing?"

-"No, I'm more into curves and people my age."

-"Damn, I was about to confess that I was 70 years old". I joked.

-"I can make exceptions, but only for elves."

-"I'm lucky then."

-"Very. I— I hope to have more, or occasionally."

-"Of?"

-"Photos of you, it's more beautiful than a sunset."

"-oh."

-A warmth spread to my cheeks, a smile settling in.

-"ok."

-"ok?"

-"Okay."

___________________

-"Do you think I'll hear your voice someday?"

-It was late, or early for him and late for me.

-"I don't know."

-showing my face in a photo…

-I could control that, take back the photo, delete it, edit it. But talking…

-Talking is taking up space.

-"I imagine it smooth."

-"My voice?"

-"Hm, like a stream, it rocks slowly."

-"I might have a smoker's voice."

-"That would suit you too."

-"Maybe one day then."

-"I'm looking forward to that."

_____________________

-Those were the last words sent from him.

-No more contact.

-His absence wasn't due to missions, he had confessed to me that he was off the day before.

-So he had decided to stop.

-I tried to find excuses, before accepting the reality of it.

-Days passed and I hoped he would come back.

-Maybe he was like me, needing time to recover.

-Maybe he was hurt.

-Everything was silent.

-When four months had finally passed, I understood.

-He had grown tired of the silence. I held back a sob and closed the discussion.

-A stab wound would have been better I think.

-To ease the constant pain and intense questions in my mind.

-What had I done wrong? Was I too much? Did I ask the wrong question? Should I have kept quiet?

-Everything was spinning and I finally closed the app. damn.

_____________________________

-My feet led me to the publishing house.

-Today I had to make the final corrections for Madame Lasswell before her vacation with her wife Kate.

-Hesitant, I knocked on her door.

-An "enter" was heard and I entered the already crowded room.

- A mustached man in a beanie, a masked man, a mullet, Kate, and Gaz were watching me.

-My eyes betrayed my surprise at his presence. What was he doing here? Why now? How should I react?

-"Y/n, sorry for the crowd. I guess you have it."

-"Yes ma'am."

-My voice barely above a whisper was usual for Jocelyn. I handed her the manuscripts.

-"We're going to drink at the bar downstairs, do you want to come?"

-Come? To a crowded place, surrounded by drunk people, constant noise, blinding lights with the icing on the cake being a guy who blew me off for the year?

-"No, I'm busy tonight, sorry."

-"No problem."

-Slowly my heels turned, I took the elevator but I heard footsteps. Kyle was with me.

-"I was on a mission."

-"hm."

-"I know I told you no, but he… there were quite a few problems and I had to leave, I didn't have time to warn you, it dragged on, Ghost broke my phone by sitting on it with his stupid hard ass, and we just got back from the airport actually. Lasswell, Kate finally— she works with us so that's why I'm here"

-A silence stretched, he took a breath.

-"you didn't have to explain… I mean after the word mission, I understood I was wrong."

-"I wanted to be clear."

-"I should have asked and sent you messages."

-"No, it's okay, it must have seemed suspicious. I ask for your voice, you say no, and I disappear. The conclusion was logical."

-"but it wasn't the right one."

-"It's okay, we're here, aren't we?"

-"yes."

-The elevator rang, the door opened. Hesitant, I watched him.

-"I love it." -"hm?"

-"your voice."

-"Oh."

-"I… you're really busy tonight or…"

-"No, I just don't like…"

-"The crowd."he guessed

-"Hm."

-"I— I can invite you for dinner? At my place, we'll grab takeout, no crowds, no one to see us."

-"That sounds like the pitch of a serial killer."

-He widened his eyes. I snorted.

-"Okay, you got me." he chuckled.

-" At your place sounds good. Better than a restaurant." I admitted.

-"Cool, so…"

-"Shall we go then, yes". I murmured as he finally released the elevator button and we stepped out of the elevator.

_________________

-At his place, everything was calm.

-Not me.

-How should I stand? Too close? Too far? What to talk about? And what if I'm boring in the end? What to order? Does he like seafood or is he allergic? My eyes focused on every detail and…

-Everything's fine.

-His hand on mine, he took the initiative for the restaurant to order, asking me my preferences, and we waited for the delivery guy.

-Slowly, he asked questions about my work. I mastered it.

-And slowly everything unfolded naturally.

-Sitting on his couch, his hand not letting go of mine, he drew circles with his thumb while talking.

-I liked that. In groups, I liked… listening.

-People like to talk about themselves and I like listening to that, not participating, and Gaz understood that in such an impressive way.

-Occasionally, he asked questions in return, gauging my desire to speak, I answered and this back and forth held until the food arrived.

-Maybe everything would turn out for the best.

-Standing in front of his door, I didn't know what to add to this evening.

-A not-so-stranger, three years of virtual chat and now I was unable to figure out the right goodbye on his doorstep.

-Hesitant, we observed each other.

-"I hope we'll do this again."

-"Yes. "I replied.

-He stepped forward.

-I remained still, his face close to mine. -Kiss? Cheek? Goodbye? Whisper? -Which action would he choose? -I wished for a dice to decide, a title, or a "Gaz approves".

-"May I?"

-Oh. -I nodded. -His hands on my hips, he placed a brief kiss on my lips. -"I'm glad we managed to break the silence." -"me too."

-Perhaps, after all, I wouldn't return to my solitary silence tonight. His hands guiding me back to his apartment and the door closing behind us.

-I could easily guess that a die had just been thrown for a long evening and we both seemed to have the right score.

If you want more my COD Masterlist

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vampiricgaz · 1 month

Text

Denial | Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Transmale!Reader Oneshot

Warnings/Tags : Brief mentions of sex, internalized transphobia, anxiety, vomiting, angst and fluff

A/N : This would be my second one shot that I’ve posted, I hope y’all like it :3

AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/55254895

The footsteps in the living room echoed throughout the hall—a sound you’ve memorised so much it’s ingrained in your head. The steps get louder and louder, and when they stop, you then hear a sudden knock on the door of your room. The door opens slightly, the light from outside shining into the darkness of your room. You see his shadow cast on the walls, the outline of his handsome features, and his body highlighted by the soft light of the hallway.

“I’m going out now; I'm probably going to buy a few snacks from the 7-11 nearby. You want anything, mate?”

There it was the familiar voice of the one who made your heart race—the one that made your feet turn cold and made the butterflies flutter around in your stomach. Kyle Garrick, your college roommate, the one you were lucky enough to have instead of any other roommate.

“Maybe a bag of crisps and some chocolate, thanks.” You answer with a warm smile, trying to hide the fact that your heart is about to pump itself out of your chest.

He was the perfect man, you thought. He was smart and sweet, a gentleman when he needed to be, and dammit, the tiny fangs of his teeth peek out when he smiles cheekily at you, making you feel giddy and lovestruck. He’s taken care of you when you were ill, and he’s always been by your side, platonically.

You were mere friends with him, something that always hit you hard and shattered whatever fantasies you had about him. Everything you had done together has been platonic—something roommates do for each other—and that it meant nothing more than just being good friends. Whether it be the cuddling sessions you both would have on the couch while the television was on, sleeping together on the same bed when you both needed the comfort, cooking each other food when the other was in a bad mood, kissing each other everywhere on the face except the lips, or borrowing each other's clothes. All of it was platonic, or so you thought.

You sat there on your bed as you thought about your crush on Kyle, the dark room hiding your flushed expression before you plopped back down on the bed. You squeal into your pillow at the small interaction, your cheeks turning warm when you remember his mellow voice. You’ve fallen for the man hard, and it was only time until you confessed to him. But you couldn't—not when you’re a girl to him.

Kyle was gay, something he’d known for a long time. He came out to you, and he trusted you fully to tell you that. It took a lot for him to gather up the courage to tell you, and tears were shed the day he did. You hugged him tightly and let him cry on your shoulder. The poor guy feared you were going to hate him for it, but you accepted him with open arms. You reassured him that you were supportive, that you liked him regardless, and that him being gay was not going to ruin your friendship. And things have been alright since then, with the two of you being closer than ever and having a great friendship overall.

That was until you had to sleep through countless nights hearing loud bed creaks and various noises of Kyle getting fucked by other men every other night, and it haunts you knowing Kyle was having fun with other men and not you. Sometimes you met the men in the mornings, seeing Kyle be all lovey-dovey and affectionate with them while you simply tried to get a bowl of cereal. You would catch a glimpse of Kyle smiling softly as he laid his chin on the other man’s shoulder, hugging the man from behind while pressing kisses to his neck. And at first, you coped by knowing Kyle was finally happy after years of hiding his true self and that his happiness mattered more than your desires. But it soon turned into resentment and jealousy, wishing that those men were you and that Kyle loved you as much as them.

Soon you snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the front door open, and you rushed out with your hoodie and smiled when you saw Kyle’s presence.

“What’cha got there? Got me the crisps and chocolate that I wanted?” You asked cheekily before you went rummaging in the plastic bag for what you wanted.

“Of course, I got your favourite ones too.” He pulled you out by the scruff of your neck like you were a cat before handing you the stuff he bought. “I figured you were hungry and bought you more stuff; you're welcome.” He smiled as he also gave you a cup of noodles and a hotdog, kissing you on the temple before he went back to his room.

Your heart raced again, the familiar thumping of your heart as the kiss lingered on your temple. It was a platonic kiss; that was all that it was, and you knew that better than anyone. He was affectionate with you, but it wasn’t the same; those small cheek or temple kisses weren’t the same as the ones he gave to his flings or ex’s; it was all platonic.

You couldn’t blame him at all; it was your fault that you’re like this. Maybe you could’ve had a chance if you wore masculine clothes and tried to ‘look like’ a man, but no, you were feminine and wore feminine clothes to cope with the fact that you’ll never be the boy you want to be, especially not a boy Kyle would ever love. Makeup and girly clothes were all you’ve known, never having the guts to come out to anyone, so you remain the girl that everyone knows and loves—except Kyle would never love you.

For a while, things were normal, and you barely cared about Kyle and your problems since you were drowning in a pile of assignments and projects that needed to be done. But then it happened again; it was another one of those off days where nothing went right and those thoughts came back. You couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror without having to see the person you’ve become; you couldn’t recognise yourself under all those frilly clothes and pinky makeup. You hear laughter out the door; it was Kyle and probably another one of his flings again. “Great.” You mumbled, knowing what kind of night this would be. It didn’t help that you were spiralling as it is, your dysphoria and anxiety spiking the more you thought about Kyle and yourself. You were on the brink of tears, your body didn't feel right and you wished to tear your skin right off. This wasn't you, or well a version of you that you despised.

Wanting to get some fresh air you tried to leave your room, only to be met with the sight of Kyle kissing another man with a smile on his face before waving him off as the stranger left the apartment. Jealousy surged through your veins, and then the sudden realisation hit you hard. You're never going to get this, not when you're like this. Your stomach churned, and you suddenly felt sick. Of all things, this wasn’t what you needed for tonight. And without even acknowledging Kyle, you rushed back into your room and straight to the toilet, where you retched everything into the bowl. Kyle ran to you immediately out of concern, kneeling beside you and rubbing your back as you emptied out your stomach.

“What’s wrong? Did you eat something bad? Are you sick?” Kyle asked frantically, panicking while he helped wipe your mouth and walking you to your bed. You sat there, faint and weak, leaning against Kyle’s body. You couldn’t get the images of Kyle’s flings out of your mind—the man you’ve loved for so long, knowing the love would never be reciprocated. The jealousy was eating you inside, and it wasn't just jealousy that Kyle had eyes for other people, but the people Kyle liked were attractive looking. You could never look like them.

“M'fine…” You mumble inaudibly, trying your best not to show Kyle that you were having almost going to have an anxiety attack. Kyle looked down at you, placing a hand on your forehead to check for a fever.

“You’re warm; are you sure you’re fine?” Kyle frowned as he saw your weak state, keeping you comfortable on his body as you weakly lean on him, head beside his shoulders. You nod your head, but Kyle didn’t believe that you were fine.

The way Kyle held you, his soft and mellow voice comforting you at your worst. You couldn’t help but fall for him even more. You hated yourself for being so vulnerable in front of him. You mumble to him, “Would you ever like me?” Kyle blinked in confusion at the question, an awkward silence taking over the room.

“I do like you, though.”

“Not in that way; you know what I mean.”

Silence filled the room again, and Kyle shifted nervously.

“You know I’m gay, right? I’m not into women.”

“And I'm not a woman!”

“Forget it. Just leave.” You groan and push yourself away from Kyle, lying on the bed while turning away from him. Kyle didn’t say anything; he simply stood up and left the room like you asked him to.

Weeks went by, and you both haven’t spoken to each other since you’ve avoided him even when he wished to speak to you. Locking yourself in your room all the time, only ever coming out when you had classes. You noticed that Kyle hadn’t brought anyone over, but you didn’t think much of it. You were rotting in your bed and barely eating these days, but as you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a knock on the door.

“Mate, please let me in.” Kyle pleaded, and you could hear the desperation in his voice as he continued to knock on your door. And for whatever reason, you lazily woke up and opened the door.

Kyle’s face held a worried expression, frowning when he saw your dishevelled appearance and your messy room. He knew you weren’t taking care of yourself. Your eyebags grew deeper and darker, face paler and duller than before, Kyle could tell you weren't alright. There was a plate of food in his hand—something he cooked up just for you.

“You can’t keep avoiding me, love.” He said this as he barged into your room, sitting on the edge of your bed with the plate set down on the bedside table. “I care about you; please talk to me. I can’t stand not talking to you.” His eyes pleaded with yours, begging you to take care of yourself even with just a simple plate of food. He took your hand into his, his thumb gently tracing circles at the back of your hand. You missed the feeling of his soft hands touching you affectionately, or maybe you just missed him.

“I ruined it, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to ruin our friendship.” You spoke, and Kyle’s expression softened when he heard your faint voice speaking to him.

“You didn’t ruin anything; it wasn’t your fault.” He smiled softly as he sneaked his arm around your shoulder, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You looked up at him in confusion.

“I shouldn’t have confessed. I’m sorry.” Kyle laughed as you said that, but he wasn’t laughing at you. He looked at you and smiled widely—the kind of smile that makes your heart flutter. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his hand rubbing on your arm as a way to reassure you.

“You know, when I say I care about you, I mean it. I care about you way more than I should, and I think you know what I mean. So there's nothing to be sorry about lovey, I'm glad you confessed. ” Kyle’s words made you freeze, your mouth agape as you wanted to speak, but no words were coming out.

“You don’t have to say anything; just believe my words, yeah?”

“But I’m a woman to you, aren’t I? You don’t like women.”

“You’re not a woman to me; you don’t have to keep pretending that you are one from now on.”

"Kyle-"

“You’re a man; you always have been and always will be, especially to me. You got that?”

For the first time, you felt comfortable in your own skin, as if the mask you've worn for so long had just broke and fallen from your face and you'd been laid bare in front of Kyle, and he loved you regardless. Tears brim your eyes, a small pout forming on your lips before you plant your face against the fabric of Kyle’s shirt to absorb the tears. He chuckles at the sight and hugs you tightly, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m a bit sad you didn’t tell me sooner; you didn’t have to hide it from me. I trusted you with my secret; now it's your turn to trust me.” He said as his hand cupped your cheek, a gentle look in his eyes as he made you look at him. Your glassy eyes stared at Kyle’s, and he gently wiped away the tears that stained your now-warm cheeks.

“I don’t look like a man; I feel ashamed to even call myself one when I wear dresses and put on makeup. How can you call me a man?” You replied as you rubbed your eyes, leaning comfortably on Kyle as you spoke.

“You’re still a man even when you wear dresses and make-up. You've seen me wear skirts and put on some make-up before, didn't make me less of a man, did it?”

"That's different, Kyle. I look like a woman; I just don’t understand why you like me.” You said it bluntly, and he could only giggle at how blunt you were being.

“Maybe I’ve always liked you; I just thought it was platonic.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not, I swear!”

You whacked him on the arm while he continued to laugh, in turn making you crack a small smile at him.

“Look, maybe there was a part of me that denied my attraction to you when I thought you were a woman. Now that I know you’re not, I feel more comfortable liking you. Does that make sense?”

He explained while you continued laying against him, your smile widening the more Kyle spoke. Your cheeks were red, and your body became warmer. The thought that Kyle had always liked you made you happy.

“What about those men?”

“You mean when I bring people over? I knew I was gay for way too long, so when I started liking you, I thought I was wrong about my sexuality. I started sleeping with more guys to distract myself, I guess. But rest assured, I’m still gay, and I like you.”

You fell into silence, thoughts swirling in your head while you listened to Kyle. Kyle knew you were deep in thought; he could see how much you were struggling to believe him. You still had doubts and insecurities yelling at you that 'this was all some big prank. Or that Kyle was actually bi and he sees you as a woman. He couldn’t have liked you. How could he have liked you? You look nothing like a man, and Kyle liked you. Does he like women too, then? Maybe this is all a big joke, and Kyle is just playing with you. What if he pities you and he’s just pretending to like you? Are you just trapping him in a false queer relationship? Maybe-'

You felt a sudden warmth on your lips, snapping you out of your thoughts as you felt Kyle’s lips on yours. His hands cupped your face lovingly, tilting it up so he could kiss you. His lips were soft and warm on yours; it was addicting. You closed your eyes and savoured the moment, reciprocating the kiss with the same gentleness he had.

“You think too much, lovey.” Kyle mumbled cheekily as he pulled away from you, smiling before gently kissing your forehead. But this time it didn’t feel platonic; no, the kiss was romantic and one you’ve longed for since you met him.

“I love you.”

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x trans reader #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #kyle garrick #trans reader #trans mlm

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vampiricgaz · 1 month

Text

Living Unperceived

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x GN!reader

TW//CW: Angst, suicidal ideation, thought of death, brief mention of potential self harm, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n.

Words: 2,880

It was easy to feel like you didn't exist, it was easy living unperceived. Being out of sight out of mind. Being nothing but a ghost to those around you. More of a memory than someone to talk to, someone to reach out to.

It wasn't a life you originally chose, you'd tried to make an effort, tried to connect to others, but as you watched yourself slip away, flatlining friendship after friendship, it got harder and harder to try to prove that you were even still here. Becoming nothing more than a decoration in the corner of every room.

You grew fond of your home like mold grows fond of old bread. There was something rotting inside of you, festering, a silent buzzing in the back of your mind, an inkling, a desire. One you'd needed to shove down more times than you could count anymore.

You were ghosting along, a vanishing act no one would witness, standing over a trapdoor without a bottom, no safety net to catch you. Only an endless spiral waited for you. Waiting for your body to fall into a box, your soul moving along without the burden of your flesh, still falling further.

Hobbies were turning into chores, things you once enjoyed were becoming dreadful. You felt as though you'd already said all you needed to, done all you needed to. Rest was achievable, but at a cost too high. An amount of effort that would feel regrettable.

The feeling of monachopsis was turning you into nothing more than a shell of your old life. An emptiness inside of you made you feel a divide inside yourself. Like the splitting of the body from the soul.

If a body is a home you'd like to sell yours, rent it out to someone else, take up permanent residence somewhere else, somewhere lacking the constant pain, the flaws, the memories of all that's gone wrong. Away from every lie you've ever told.

Maybe you did have people who care, people who worried about you and wanted you around, enjoyed your presence, but not even they could fight past your self isolating, self destructive habits. Your sense of rejection was nothing more than a hair trigger, springing off and closing yourself up at even a change of tone.

Your curtains stayed closed, you only went outside when you needed to, once you got home you wouldn't do anything, you'd just lay yourself down and continue to decay. Waiting for the world to stop turning. Waiting for everything to catch up to you.

There was so much time to be left with your thoughts, maybe it was the changing of the season that made you long for it again, a name on a slab with pretty flowers placed lovingly beside it. Would anyone bring flowers for you?

Flowers on a grave are a beautiful thing, flowers mean someone still cares, still remembers a name, still mourns for a friend. Did anyone still remember you were here? Maybe if you were dead someone would finally care.

You could only imagine the things people would say.

Maybe someone would finally show up, if not, there is something poetic that could be said about a funeral with no attendants. A casket in an empty room. Lowered down into the ground not by their loved ones, as a last goodbye, but by people just trying to remove another decomposing corpse from the sight of others. Would the funeral workers find it sad?

Someone said a roommate would help, someone being there, consistency, a person to talk to and someone to serve. You just sucked at picking them, Kyle was a wonderful roommate, a dream even. But he was gone more than he was around. You hadn't even seen him in a few months. He was more of someone to worry about than someone who helped silence the buzzing in your brain.

The more you thought of him while he was gone the more death and dying crossed your mind, yours, his, everyone's. The thought of losing him made you want to lose yourself.

He didn't know of course, and you never planned on telling him, he'd make you find help if he knew the things you thought about. Help wasn't always helpful. More times than not it's done more harm than good in your life. It was easier not to talk anymore. Kept the consequences and accountability at bay.

Maybe one day Kyle would be able to come home to an empty house, a house lacking the black spot you tended to cause. A home lacking someone being consumed by an erosive thought pattern. Surely that would cheer up his life, make things easier for him.

You didn't feel you were a person who could interact with others anymore, there was a divide between you and the rest of the human population that had grown too wide. You tried still, but it typically just ended in regret. Furthering your spiral down.

The more you tried the more you realized your incompatibility with connecting to others. You were out of date, buffering, you needed a recall. How do some people still live even when they lack a purpose? An objective or dream they're trying to achieve.

It wasn't so bad being alone, you had yourself in the morning, in the evening, you didn't need others, nor did you rely upon them. Especially when you were cursed with the knowledge that all your faults and flaws are no one's fault but yours. You were just something you needed to deal with yourself.

Maybe you should deal with yourself.

You were losing track of days, of what time it was, whether it was day or night. Life seemed like a blur that was passing you by, leaving you behind. You kept missing work, your bank account taking a hit from it. You were bleeding out financially, the cost of living far outweighing the worth of your life.

There's a way to organize and declutter, only keeping the things that bring you joy, you were no longer sure what to do with yourself now that you no longer felt that joy and zest for life. You didn't know how to file and organize your issues.

Things seemed easier when you were younger, not that they actually were, but your brain wasn't developed enough to understand that. If you were to try this all again you hoped you'd be granted a cushier life, or the mercy of being brain dead.

"Oh, there you are. I was starting to wonder if you were home." Kyle came into your view, looking down at you. "Why are you laying on the floor?" He looked around the living room, trying to see if there was something wrong with the couches.

"I didn't hear you come in. You just get home?" Sitting up you looked around, the house was a bit of a mess, you should have cleaned. You felt bad for Kyle, having to live with you.

You often wondered if you haunted his thoughts when he wasn't home, just like you haunted his home. You definitely thought about him a lot when he was gone, but all things you thought of him were either pleasant or tragic. He probably just saw you as a nuisance.

You couldn't imagine why he would ever want you living with him.

"A few minutes ago. You alright? You have bags under your eyes, worse than normal." He crouched down, inspecting you further. "When did you last sleep?"

"I'm fine. I slept earlier, took a nap." When his hand came to reach for you, trying to get you to look at him you gently swat it away. "I said I'm alright."

"Okay. You sick?" Kyle stood back up, offering you his hand to help you up too.

"I'm alright, works been tiring. What time is it?" Taking his hand you let him pull you up, the light spilling through the curtains cast the room in a soft yellow, likely golden hour. Kyle always looked really ethereal at golden hour. He was so pretty, body and mind, his soul was kind, a strong sense of right and wrong.

You imagined that even with the nice lighting you probably looked like a corpse, something that just looking at raised warning signs in the mind, a programmed distaste to prevent the spread of disease. You were sure that even subconsciously Kyle's mind was warning him of your decomposition.

"It's not too late, around seven I think. You sure you're doing alright?" Taking a seat on the couch he pat the spot beside him, waiting for you to sit down too.

"Do I really look that bad?" Before you sat down you moved to open the curtains, the setting sun hitting your eyes for the first time that day, it was bright, almost too bright for you, but Kyle deserved to have light in his life. You cracked the window open, letting some fresh air in.

When you turned around Kyle was staring at you, a soft look in his eyes as he took in your backlit silhouette, he looked at you like you weren't something damned, he looked at you like an artist looks at their muse. It was unsettling to be looked at that way. Like you held more value than you did.

"You look fine, I'm just worried about you is all." He watched carefully as you came back to him, standing there awkwardly for a moment before he gently grabbed your wrist, pulling you to sit down.

"Don't be, there's nothing to worry about." When you sat down he leaned back, getting comfortable on the couch. You were tense, swimming in guilt, you didn't deserve his concern.

You shouldn't be causing him worry. He had enough stress in his life.

"If you say so. You know I care about you, right?" He nudged your leg with his knee, draping his arm across the back of the couch. "I'd hate it if something happened that I could have helped prevent."

"Of course I know you care about me, nothing bad is going to happen. There's no reason to raise alarm." The lie slipped from you effortlessly, practiced and rehearsed. A programmed response always at the ready, always delivered with the right cadence to be believed.

"Has your pain been flaring up? Is that why you were on the floor?" He seemed genuinely worried, you thought of all the times he'd suffered through cold showers because you took all the hot water, just trying to soothe the constant pain. He said he likes cold showers. No one actually likes cold showers.

"Kyle?" You lean against the back of the couch, your head resting against his arm. He hummed in response, letting you know he was listening and waiting for you to continue. "How often do you think about death?"

"I try not to think about it too much, but with my line of work it crosses my mind sometimes, mostly when I'm in bad situations, or when I worry about my team. Sometimes I think about the people I've shot and the people I couldn't save." He was honest in his answer, but it just made you feel more alienated. He thought about it in a normal context, he wasn't like you. "How often do you think about death?"

You were silent, looking away from him in shame. "All the time." You confessed. "I think I'm losing my head, I can't stop picturing what it'd be like to be dead. I think it'd be easier. I think I'd make a better ghost than a person. I think I am a ghost of a person."

Kyle sat there silently, processing your words, he'd known for a while now that you were struggling, he just didn't know how badly you were struggling. "How long has it been like this?"

"I've thought about death my whole life, it's always been a morbid fascination, something that's always been an inevitable possibility. I came to terms with my death a really long time ago. I thought I was going to die as a kid, I planned my death as a teenager, but I'm still here. And I don't really know what to do anymore." You still couldn't look at him, your body starting to tremble.

"Are you a danger to yourself?" He gently took your hand, holding it between his, his thumb gently massaging your palm. His tone wasn't of disappointment or disinterest. He wasn't just waiting for you to stop talking, he wasn't seeing if he needed to send you somewhere to be fixed. He wasn't going to lecture you. He just cared about you, that was all.

"No, well, I don't know." Your shoulders slacked, looking up to the ceiling you took deep breaths, trying to still yourself, trying to take control over your emotions.

"What do you mean by that?" He squeezed your hand softly, trying to get you to look at him.

"The other day, I was cutting a bagel with a knife, I didn't want to grab a cutting board so I was cutting it in my hand. I told myself I'd be careful, but I cut my thumb. And I don't know if it was on purpose or if it was an accident." Turning to him you had tears in your eyes, a wetness that made them look like perfect stained glass, the light from the window illuminating them.

Kyle had always loved your eyes, he's always thought they looked like glass, almost like hand painted doll eyes, crafted and made with so much care. Made by the touch of a master's hand.

You were always like a breath of fresh air to him, so different from everyone he served with, even with your flaws, to him your entire being was handcrafted, there was no other way you could be so beautiful.

"Do you want to die? Or do you just think about it a lot?" Kyle gently cupped your cheek, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb.

"I don't know anymore." You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes. "It sounds easier than living. But I wouldn't do it, I really wouldn't. Just sounds appeasing sometimes. It sounds peaceful and tranquil, to have your body laid down, pushing daisies, elm trees growing overhead, their roots surrounding, adopting your casket into their fold. I feel more like a ghost out of their grave than an actual person sometimes."

Leaning in, Kyle placed a soft kiss to your forehead, staying there as he spoke. "I don't want to have to carry your casket to a grave, I don't want to lay you down. We all die someday, don't rush too quickly towards the end. Pace yourself, take in the view. Life isn't about dying, it's about experiencing something beautiful. You're beautiful to me."

"How do you do it, Kyle? How do you live?" You leaned further into him, gently grabbing his wrists, he was still holding your face, cradling it like it was the most precious thing in the world. Like you were the most valuable thing, more valuable than rubies or diamonds.

"It's not so hard, you just take one day at a time, sometimes those days are filled with lots of things, and sometimes they're filled with nothing. Life is what you make of it, and I hate that saying, but it has some truth to it. If thinking about death is comforting to you, that's okay. But don't let it consume you." There was a softness and understanding in Kyle's eyes that you'd never been looked at with before. By anyone.

"Thinking about death is only comforting when it's me. I don't want to lose you, I don't want you to die. Don't die on me, please." Wrapping your arms around him you hugged him tightly, taking in a deep breath of his scent.

"Not planning on it, love. Just promise I won't come home and not find you here anymore. I enjoy coming home to you, I enjoy you living here, I love our movie nights, and when we do facemasks, when you have me lay my head on your lap so you can pluck my eyebrows. I don't know what I'd do without you. Everything I love about life I love because of you. Everything makes me think of you." Wrapping his arms around you he held you just as tight.

"I don't know what to do when things get bad. I don't know how to not let it rot inside of me. I don't know how to talk to people, let them know I need help." You were never good at reaching out, always willing to listen but never speaking.

"Then don't, if you're struggling you don't need to tell anyone, you don't need to tell me. Just come sit with me, come lay down with me, I'll try and make it rot less. We can do whatever you want, or we don't have to do anything at all." Kyle pulled away from the hug, grabbing your face again. "I love you, okay?"

"You do?" It didn't make sense to you, how could a heart like his ever love a heart like yours?

"More than anything." His lips were soft and gentle as they connected to yours, holding them there in a tender kiss. "You're not a ghost, you're not as invisible as you think, I see you. And I love you."

"I love you too."

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vampiricgaz · 1 month

Text

Safe

c.w : mentions of reader being in a shelter, gaz taking in reader, plot does not follow mw2/mw3 entirely, no uses of y/n. Only (Name) or petnames + ‘You’. Mentions of loss (parents death) + bad staff at shelter.

NOT EVERYTHING IN THIS FIC IS ACCURATE)) hcs

Gn! Preteen! Reader + Gaz

(Some facts in this au/ fic arent canon! If i made any mistakes like /gaz’ age/ do tell me.)▪️▪️

sumry. : pre teen! reader is taken in by gaz after he gets back from a mission he finds reader in a shelter. After being taken back home with gaz, gaz’s family didn’t seem to get along with you.

- The loss of your parents caused you to be sent into a shelter.

- You barely ever felt safe in there, the nightmare and flashing images of your last moments with your parents haunted you every night.

- You woke up screaming, every night you felt drenched in sweat. You weren’t able to go to bed without having flashbacks. - To this day you still remembered how the house burned down.

- And took your parents down with it. Left no trace of them. No one can blame you, you were only a child. By the time you figured out how to call the fire fighters it was already too late.

- Feeling frozen in place as you watched them announce. Your parents were gone. It happened so long ago. You barely had time with them,

- The only memory you ever had of your parents was a notebook you’d had been given by them. It had their signature inside along with pictures. There was a memory book you recovered. But it wasnt good quality.

- Your parents were around for long. By their time not all cameras were the best. - Taken into the shelter at a young age you never had anyone. The staff treated you like crap. The children your age there, for so many years

- Everyone got taken in or adopted. You weren’t. You got sick of it. Constantly kids shoved you around, constantly, staff barely fed you.

- But one thing that was even worse, this shelter was near a field. The field was stuck around for a very long time.

- It used to belong to farmers. It was a very open one but now it was used for military. It was used as a spot for training or anything really.

- One man in particular saw you.

The shelter had a routine for everyday. One weekends, at sometimes thursday night. Children would be allowed to do activities out. You never really participated. You were closed off and reserved. Everyone there was just not overall good people. You were rather watching the soldiers train, you always noticed one man though. He seemed to have seen you from afar.

- Gaz. You knew him as. Gaz, but you always called him the big man. Since he was tall,

- One time running around outside the shelter’s playground. You had felt a shove when you scraped a little bit of your knee. He was the one who reported to the staff if they can check in on you

- So far to run off mid way through training a few times to immediately make his way towards you. He somehow saw himself in you. Quiet, reserved.

- His own captain always told him he was quiet. But you were so sad all the time it broke his heart.

- He was a soft man at heart but really had to be tough, when he got to know you. He had seemed to come across a store one day while on a mission nearby. Or had it seemed they took a stop.

- He’d asked to step in since he quickly payed, he bought a treat.

- When he came to the shelter he took a knee and cooed for you to take it. You thanked him but he suddenly just hugged you. He was tearing up.

- He hated seeing how fearful and unsafe you seemed. How you werent given treats.

- So many things were happening. He got to know you day by day. If they were on a break he always came to see you. Because he wouldn’t forget how you even got him something back. It was a drawing. Of the field.

- He still had it in his breast pocket,

- But really, he had enough of seeing this

What had you done to deserve this. One time he had stepped into the office, when he talked with the staff about you. He got to know about the shelter and what it was like, he saw your file. How could a innocent kid

Be mistreated?

- He took you in one day. He had introduced you to his own home where he lived. But his father really made this a problem, his father constantly asked Gaz if he was same for bringing you in here.

- You got to know Gaz though. You were kept in his room, he told you could sleep in his bed, he didn’t mind sleeping on the floor since he was in harsher conditions anyways.

He’d been used to it.

- But he finally figured what troubled you.

- ‘Why didn’t you tell me, (Name)?’

- The nightmares. When you woke up crying he was almost instantly there. Crushing you in a hug he didn’t realize how hard he held you.

- ‘Are you okay, kid?’ He’d brush your hair away. Wiping any stray tears.

- His hand ran up your shoulder. Patting it a little before he pulled you to rest on him. You were like a scared animal.

- He held you so tight. He felt your tears wet his t shirt. You hit him out of panic but he only took the blows,

- Since that night he’d tried his best to help you relax. He told you what to do if he was gone while you had these nightmares.

- Alot of times he had to keep you only in his room since his father didnt like you. Nor did his brothers do. But he only told them to f off since you were almost his kid now and they’d need to accept it.

- When you were sick back at the shelter you were often just given those pills and told to take them. Then you were just stuck inside all day. No one was present to take care of you. But Gaz made you safe.

- You were having a really bad fever but you saw how quickly Gaz caught onto it. He places you in the tub after he filled it with water. He gave you your privacy. But he was outside the bathroom if you needed him.

- ‘Im here if you need me, kiddo’

- He sometimes had to rush to the pharmacy for medicine. But you couldn’t let go and your hands flew up to his arm one time he actually stumbled back next to you when you did.

- So he had to take you with him. No one can ask who the kid coming with him was. You were a secret though. He didnt tell anyone about you at base. He kept his child safe.

- It didnt make so much sense to anyone how he adopted you. But it was simple for him. He knew you long enough.

- But really it felt fast. A month, and he took you in. You only saw him those days bringing you treats or coming to talk to you sometimes. Even if it wasnt talk. It became a normal thing he’d nod at you from afar as hello.

- You got along. You did grow attached to him, he officialy did sign adoption papers. Legally and finally now. His child.

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vampiricgaz · 1 month

Text

I'm Still Here | Kyle Gaz Garrick x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Can I request the prompt “I love you. I'll wait for you. Come back. Come back to me.” with Gaz please?

Thanks ❞

: ̗̀➛ Gaz isn't going anywhere, he's never leaving... he just wishes that you could see him.

: ̗̀➛ major character death, swearing, injury detail

↳ DNI if you interact with rape porn, proship, profic, DDNE/dead dove, etc. stay the fuck away from me <3

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Gaz sat on the kitchen counter, watching you carefully as he idly kicked his legs, the backs of his heavy combat boots hitting the wooden cupboards but without a single sound. His hands planted firmly on the marble counter top as he dared to smile.

He loved to watch you so much; to see you go about your day and to get better and better every day.

The last few months had been so tough on you, Gaz felt so awful; seeing you stay up late every night, crying and sobbing and wailing until you passed out. You would sleep until the afternoon, wake up, and then spend all night either in bed or sitting on the sofa crying and snivelling.

If he had been able to, Gaz would have cried himself; he promised that he would never hurt you, that he would always protect you. But he had failed you; he couldn't protect you any more, he couldn't keep you safe at all.

It was all his fault.

But seeing you now... vibrant, full of life, singing along to old Sodom songs. It did bring a smile to Gaz's face as he leaned back a little, folding his arms across his chest. He listened keenly to the sound of your voice, and watched you like he always used to.

His dark brown eyes completely and utterly focused on you, and only you; as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

He reached a hand down to his stomach, feeling the cold gush of nothing as a soft draft seeped through the open and gaping hole; the jagged edges and bits of organ that hung and clung onto the bottom. The burn marks around the inner rim.

He frowned. He thought he was going to get used to it after a while, but not anymore.

He wished you would look at him, that you would meet his sunken and empty eyes; he wished you would put your hand next to him, and feel the cold spot that had formed there.

They seemed to be all around him these days, cold spots and flickering lights.

But you hardly seemed to notice. He would scream at the top of his lungs, call your name as he stood in front of you, and you didn't even hear him; you didn't even see him standing there with his voice breaking and hoarse.

He slid himself off of the counter, his heavy duty boots making no sound as he paced around you, nudging your cup slightly so that it wouldn't fall. Flicking the spider away from the tap so that you didn't accidentally touch it; he knew how much you would have hated to startle the poor thing.

But then the phone rang, and Gaz frowned as he looked at the caller ID; Price. You picked it up, sniffling.

"Hey, John."

"Hey," Price sighed. "How you holding up?"

You shrugged, swiping a hand down your face. Gaz knew you were about to lie, you always did that when you were lying. "I'm okay... I'm okay..."

"The funeral's next week," Price told you. "You think you can make it?"

"I have to," you scoffed. "He was... Gaz is everything to me. I have to be there."

Gaz cleared his throat, watching as he tried to put his hand on your shoulder, only for it to sink right through. "Don't lie to him, darling. Please. He can help you."

But you didn't hear a single thing. "Look, John, I appreciate the whole caring, considerate bullshit you have going on, but I don't need it right now."

Gaz frowned, shaking his head as he begged for you to open up and to talk about it; you didn't have to suffer silently, and nor did you have to suffer alone but... but then he looked at the picture on the wall, and he sighed heavily, knowing why you were being that way.

You had always been one another's confidants and most trusted friends; there were things that you would only talk to Gaz about, just as there were things that he would only talk to you about. Forever joined at the hip. The picture on the wall, taken just after you had gotten together, only reminded him of that.

You looked so happy. So comfortable.

He paced around a little more, only to pause when you called his name.

"Kyle, I dunno if you can hear me," you murmured. "But if you can - I love you, I'm never gonna forget you. You know that, right? I dunno... I dunno if you're here, or if you've fucked off somewhere, but... I don't wanna bury you. I really don't, I mean how... how do you bury your best friend, your husband, and act like you're alright?"

Gaz swallowed hard, shaking his head as he wiped his aching eyes and moved back to you; he put his hands on the side of your head, despite his fingers sinking into you like he was made of nothing, and pressed his lips to your temple. You didn't feel anything, didn't even flinch or wonder why it had gotten so cold suddenly.

He sighed as he pulled away, moving to stand in front of you even though you couldn't see him. "I'm never leaving you. I'm not. I love you. I'll wait for you."

"I love you," you whispered, closing your eyes and sobbing quietly. "I love you. I'll wait for you. Come back. Come back to me. Please... please... Gaz, pull a pet sematary for all I care, just... come back."

"But I'm right here," he told you. "I'm already here. I'm not leaving you, I'm not going anywhere. I just... I wish you could see me. I wish you could hear me."

You moved away, shaking your head and making your way to the sofa, leaving your phone on the counter; Gaz followed, not wanting to leave you alone for even a second.

He loved you.

He wasn't going anywhere.

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vampiricgaz · 2 months

Text

3K notes · View notes

vampiricgaz · 2 months

Text

vacay with the boys! - 👻🧼🖤

price isn’t old but he is definitely getting heart attacks like one

My silly little tweet that made me draw this LOL

3K notes · View notes

vampiricgaz · 2 months

Text

I'm Still Here | Kyle Gaz Garrick x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Can I request the prompt “I love you. I'll wait for you. Come back. Come back to me.” with Gaz please?

Thanks ❞

: ̗̀➛ Gaz isn't going anywhere, he's never leaving... he just wishes that you could see him.

: ̗̀➛ major character death, swearing, injury detail

↳ DNI if you interact with rape porn, proship, profic, DDNE/dead dove, etc. stay the fuck away from me <3

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

He loved to watch you so much; to see you go about your day and to get better and better every day.

It was all his fault.

His dark brown eyes completely and utterly focused on you, and only you; as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

He frowned. He thought he was going to get used to it after a while, but not anymore.

He wished you would look at him, that you would meet his sunken and empty eyes; he wished you would put your hand next to him, and feel the cold spot that had formed there.

They seemed to be all around him these days, cold spots and flickering lights.

But then the phone rang, and Gaz frowned as he looked at the caller ID; Price. You picked it up, sniffling.

"Hey, John."

"Hey," Price sighed. "How you holding up?"

You shrugged, swiping a hand down your face. Gaz knew you were about to lie, you always did that when you were lying. "I'm okay... I'm okay..."

"The funeral's next week," Price told you. "You think you can make it?"

"I have to," you scoffed. "He was... Gaz is everything to me. I have to be there."

Gaz cleared his throat, watching as he tried to put his hand on your shoulder, only for it to sink right through. "Don't lie to him, darling. Please. He can help you."

But you didn't hear a single thing. "Look, John, I appreciate the whole caring, considerate bullshit you have going on, but I don't need it right now."

You looked so happy. So comfortable.

He paced around a little more, only to pause when you called his name.

He sighed as he pulled away, moving to stand in front of you even though you couldn't see him. "I'm never leaving you. I'm not. I love you. I'll wait for you."

"But I'm right here," he told you. "I'm already here. I'm not leaving you, I'm not going anywhere. I just... I wish you could see me. I wish you could hear me."

You moved away, shaking your head and making your way to the sofa, leaving your phone on the counter; Gaz followed, not wanting to leave you alone for even a second.

He loved you.

He wasn't going anywhere.

50 notes · View notes