Discover Top Posts Tagged with #kyle garrick

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮

⋆ Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Male!Reader

⋆ Rating: Explicit

⋆ Status: Completed

⋆ Tags: Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-con Elements, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Internal Conflict, Top Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Bottom Male Reader-Insert, First Time, As In Having Gay Sex, Anal Fingering, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Minor John "Soap" MacTavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley, No Usage of Y/N for Reader-Insert.

⋆ Summary: A night out at the club while visiting the UK for a friend's wedding didn't go as planned.

⋆ Genitalia Term(s): Cock, Anus, Arse, Rim, Sphincter.

⋆ Word Count: 4,106

#perceivenoone works #call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #gaz x reader #gaz x you #male reader

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick - Masterlist

#perceivenoone works #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #gaz x reader #gaz x you #masterlist #call of duty

A costume party isn't exactly where Kyle would like to spend his evening, but it's a fun once-in-a-while occasion. After being told to bring a friend, he recruits Johnny for his own amusement.

He expects the man to show up dressed like Connor MacLeod from The Highlander, William Wallace or like a character from Still Game. Something undeniably Scottish. He's proven wrong and an idiot.

He's a fool to think a man with four sisters would show up as anything less than Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality.

Johnny makes it clear, rather quickly, that the idea was not his, but he lost out on a "shitebag if ye don't" to his oldest sister, and so he shall walk with pride, if not unsteadily in the heels. The lilac dress was not made to accommodate someone with such a wide torso and a lack of boobs; the wig is cheap and looks it; the entire costume is terrible. It's the greatest thing Kyle has ever seen.

Countless photos are taken; several enter his blackmail folder. They're an odd mix: The Terminator and Miss Congeniality, but people eat it up, and the drunker they get, the more they fall into their roles.

It isn't until they're both drunk, and Johnny's trying and failing to pull the dress down after getting a little too enthusiastic with his dancing, the fault lies in ABBA, that Kyle is faced with the consequences of the Scotsman's costume.

Johnny catches him staring, of course he does, Kyle doesn't have the sobriety required to be subtle as he checks out the sheer size of Johnny's legs.

His fellow sergeant bats his mascara-coated lashes and holds a hand over his crotch, arching his back without shame.

"Don't hink yer getting in ma dress, darlin. Terminator or no, a'm still a classy lady."

Kyle decides then and there that the dress stays on when they fuck.

#john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #john mactavish #gazsoap #soapgaz

Epilogue — The Last Time She Wore the Hat

Three weeks after graduation, Staff Sergeant Hozhoni Vargas stood alone at the edge of the training field. The sun had barely risen. Pale gold stretched across the hard-packed dirt, catching on the obstacle course and the empty lanes beyond it. No recruits stood in formation. No drill sergeants paced beneath the morning sky. There were no rucks hitting the ground, no boots pounding against gravel, no voices answering her in terrified unison.

Just silence. Hozhoni had spent years believing silence meant she had forgotten something. A formation she needed to inspect. A recruit she needed to find. Paperwork she should have already submitted. A crisis waiting to happen somewhere she couldn’t see. But that morning, the silence didn’t feel like a warning.

It felt like an ending. Her campaign hat sat perfectly on her head. Her uniform was immaculate. Her boots were polished. She had dressed exactly as she had for every first formation, every graduation, every bad day, and every moment when someone needed the Kraken more than they needed Hozhoni.

For the last time, she had put on the hat. She walked slowly across the field. She passed the place where Private Lewis had once stood with emergency crackers hidden in their pocket. The spot where Bell’s locker had spilled open across the floor. The road where she had walked beside exhausted recruits and taught them to finish one stretch at a time.

She could almost hear them.

Yes, Drill Sergeant!

Moving, Drill Sergeant!

No excuses, Drill Sergeant!

Hozhoni stopped near the center of the field. She had already completed her final out-processing paperwork. Her drill sergeant assignment was officially finished. The next cycle would belong to Ramirez, Cooper, Bennett, and the new drill sergeant arriving before the end of the month.

Her next duty position waited in an operations office across post. Training development. No campaign hat. No recruit platoon. No waking up before the rest of the world to terrify nineteen-year-olds into remembering their water source. She would help build training plans, coordinate instruction, review safety procedures, and develop the programs drill sergeants used to shape future soldiers.

Still important. Still Army. Just different. For the first time in years, her career would not require every piece of her. That frightened her more than she wanted to admit.

“You planning on standing out here until retirement?”

Hozhoni closed her eyes. She didn’t turn around.

“Go away, Marshall.”

Troy’s boots crossed the dirt behind her.

“No.”

“This is a private moment.”

“Then you shouldn’t have told me where you were going.”

“I didn’t.”

“You’ve come out here every morning since graduation.”

Hozhoni finally looked at him. Troy stood a few feet away in uniform, two coffees in his hands and an expression far too gentle for her comfort.

“You’ve been watching me?” she asked.

“That sounds sinister.”

“It is sinister.”

“I prefer attentive.”

“You prefer annoying.”

“That too.”

He held out one of the coffees. Hozhoni accepted it, mostly because refusing would only make him stand there longer.

Troy looked across the vacant field.

“Last day?”

She nodded.

“Orders start Monday.”

“Training development.”

“Operations and training development,” Hozhoni corrected.

“Office Kraken.”

She turned her head slowly.

“Say that again.”

Troy took a cautious sip of coffee.

“Staff Sergeant Vargas, respected developer of future Army training initiatives.”

“Better.”

“You’ll have your own desk.”

“I have had a desk before.”

“With a chair.”

“I know what comes with a desk.”

“Air-conditioning.”

“That part I’m looking forward to.”

Troy smiled, but Hozhoni didn’t.

Her attention returned to the training lanes.

“What if I hate it?”

“Then you hate it.”

She looked at him. “That’s your wisdom?”

“You want me to lie?”

“No.”

“You might hate it at first,” Troy said. “You’ve been doing this long enough that anything quieter is going to feel wrong. You’ll think you aren’t doing enough because nobody is actively crying when you enter the room.”

“They didn’t always cry.”

“Mhm.”

“Troy.”

“I believe you.”

She stared down into her coffee.

“What if I’m not good at anything else?”

Troy’s teasing disappeared. There it was. The real fear. Hozhoni could face a formation of two hundred recruits without hesitation. She could take control during an emergency, challenge officers twice her age, and walk through a field exercise on almost no sleep.

But standing on an empty field and admitting she didn’t know who she was without the hat made her voice almost too quiet to hear. Troy stepped beside her.

“You were a soldier before you were a drill sergeant.”

“I know.”

“You’ll be one after.”

“I know.”

“And you’re still going to scare the hell out of people.”

That earned him the smallest smile. Troy nudged her shoulder with his.

“You aren’t walking away from what you did here, Hozhoni. You’re taking it with you.”

She swallowed.

“I was good at this.”

“You were one of the best.”

Her eyes stung. Troy noticed and immediately looked toward the horizon, granting her the dignity of pretending he hadn’t. Hozhoni took one last drink of coffee. Then she reached up and removed her campaign hat. The morning air touched the top of her tightly pinned hair. The hat felt lighter in her hands than it ever had on her head. She looked down at it.

Every sacrifice was somewhere inside that hat. Every missed dinner. Every sleepless night. Every recruit who had tested her patience. Every soldier who had thanked her after graduation. Every time she had been cruel enough to make them stronger and gentle enough to make sure they survived it.

“I’m going to miss her,” Hozhoni whispered.

Troy looked at her.

“Kraken?”

She nodded. Troy considered that.

“She isn’t going anywhere.”

“She can’t exactly scream in an office.”

“I have met you.”

A wet laugh escaped her. Troy smiled.

“Come on. They’re waiting.”

Hozhoni frowned. “Who is waiting?”

“You’ll see.”

“I hate when you say that.”

“I know.”

Troy was waiting near the parking lot. So were Ramirez, Cooper, and Bennett. Kyle stood among them, holding a black box tied with a dark green ribbon. Hozhoni stopped.

“No.”

Kyle’s mouth curved.

“Good morning to you too.”

“What is this?”

“A small gathering,” Cooper said.

“An ambush,” Hozhoni corrected.

Bennett folded his arms. “You trained us well.”

Ramirez stepped forward first. He held out his hand.

Hozhoni stared at it before taking it.

“You did good work here,” he said.

Her throat tightened.

“So did you.”

“I know.”

She rolled her eyes, but Ramirez pulled her into a quick hug before she could defend herself. Cooper hugged her next, longer and without shame. Bennett offered his hand, then seemed to reconsider and awkwardly pulled her against his shoulder.

“If you tell anybody about that,” he warned, “I’ll deny it.”

“You’re soft,” Hozhoni murmured.

“Shut up.”

Troy stood back with unmistakable pride written across his face. Then Kyle approached her. He had been careful with her since graduation. They had spent more evenings together. More quiet dinners. More hours on her couch with his shoulder touching hers. They hadn’t named it. Hozhoni had been too tired to name anything, and Kyle had cared too much to rush her. Now he held out the box.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“Open it.”

“Garrick.”

“Vargas.”

She narrowed her eyes but accepted it. Inside was a wooden display case. Mounted against dark fabric was a miniature campaign hat insignia. Beneath it sat a polished metal plate engraved with four words.

ONE TASK. THEN THE NEXT.

Hozhoni stared at it. Her vision blurred.

“Loser,” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

“You’re trying to make me cry in public.”

“Not intentionally.”

“You had it engraved.”

“Seemed appropriate.”

She looked up at him.

There were too many people standing around them. Troy was watching. Cooper was openly emotional. Ramirez had developed a sudden fascination with the parking lot. Bennett looked like he would threaten anyone who commented on the shine in his eyes. Hozhoni didn’t care. She set the box carefully on the hood of Troy’s truck, grabbed the front of Kyle’s uniform, and kissed him. Kyle froze. Only for half a second. Then one hand settled carefully against her waist as he kissed her back. Behind them, Troy let out a long, suffering groan.

“Finally.”

Hozhoni broke the kiss just long enough to turn her head.

“Do you want to die here, Marshall?”

“No, but at least now I’d die vindicated.”

Kyle laughed against her temple.

Hozhoni looked back at him. His eyes were warm, surprised, and so openly happy it made her chest hurt.

“Was that because of the gift?” he asked.

“No.”

“End-of-career emotional instability?”

“No.”

“Temporary lapse in judgment?”

“Keep talking and I’ll take it back.”

Kyle’s smile widened.

“You can’t take it back.”

“Watch me.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“Go to dinner with me.”

“We eat together all the time.”

“A real dinner.”

Hozhoni’s pulse fluttered.

“A date?”

“Yes.”

She pretended to consider it. Kyle waited. He had always been willing to wait.

“Fine,” she said.

“Fine?”

“Don’t push it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Troy made another disgusted sound.

“Can we leave before they start doing emotional eye contact again?”

Hozhoni flipped him off without looking away from Kyle.

Monday morning arrived without a campaign hat, just the every day patrol cap. Hozhoni stood in front of the mirror wearing her regular duty uniform, her hair pulled back and a new assignment badge clipped inside the folder beneath her arm. She looked like herself. That was the strange part. She had expected to see something missing. Instead, she saw Staff Sergeant Hozhoni Vargas. A soldier. A leader. A woman allowed to become something new.

Her phone buzzed on the dresser.

Kyle: First day. You ready?

Hozhoni smiled.

Hozhoni: No.

The reply appeared quickly.

Kyle: Honest enough.

Another followed.

Kyle: One task. Then the next, love.

She stared at that last word. Love. He had tested it softly the night of their first real date, watching her face like he would take it back if she asked. She hadn’t. Hozhoni slipped the phone into her pocket, picked up her folder, and left the apartment. Kyle waited outside beside his vehicle with two cups in his hands. Coffee for himself. A sealed Coke for her.

“Thought you might need supplies,” he said.

Hozhoni took the bottle.

“You know it’s seven in the morning?”

“I’ve seen you drink Coke at six.”

“That was during The Forge.”

“You drank one at breakfast yesterday.”

“That was personal.”

Kyle opened the passenger door for her. Hozhoni stopped beside him. Across post, another cycle of recruits was arriving. Somewhere on the training field, a drill sergeant shouted for them to move faster. Hozhoni listened. For one fleeting second, the Kraken stirred inside her. Then she smiled and climbed into Kyle’s vehicle. She wasn’t leaving the Army. She wasn’t giving up the soldier she had been. She was simply moving forward. One task. Then the next.

#call of duty #cod #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #alternate universe #black ops #troy marshall #under the campaign hat #Hozhoni Vargas

Chapter Ten — Family Day

Graduation morning arrived bright, clear, and far too quickly. The field that had once been filled with frightened recruits now held ranks of newly made soldiers in crisp Army greens. Every jacket was pressed. Every ribbon sat straight. Shoes shone beneath the morning sun. Their posture was different now—stronger, steadier, earned. Families filled the bleachers.

Parents came from states away. Grandparents clutched programs with shaking hands. Little siblings waved handmade signs. Partners stood near the fence with flowers, cameras, and tears already in their eyes. Some families had driven for hours. Some had flown across the country.

A few had come from other countries entirely, carrying flags and accents and pride big enough to fill the entire parade field. Hozhoni stood with Ramirez, Cooper, and Bennett near the formation.

Campaign hat on. Uniform perfect. Face composed. But her eyes gave her away. She watched the soldiers stand at attention as the company commander spoke. She watched the families lean forward, looking for familiar faces among a sea of polished uniforms. She watched every single soldier who had survived ten weeks of pain, correction, sweat, fear, exhaustion, and growth. Then came the words everyone had waited for.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the company commander said, voice carrying across the field, “it is my honor to present to you the United States Army’s newest soldiers.”

The crowd erupted. Cheers rolled over the field. Families shouted names. Cameras flashed. A woman in the front row sobbed into both hands while the soldier beside her grinned so hard their face shook. The formation held for another moment. Then dismissal was called. Discipline broke only enough to allow joy in.

Soldiers surged toward the fence. Mothers ran. Fathers opened their arms. Children sprinted across the grass. Hozhoni stood back with the other drill sergeants, watching the reunions happen around them. A tall soldier who had spent Red Phase crying during every road march got tackled by two younger brothers. Another soldier dropped to one knee to hug a little girl who was sobbing into their shoulder.

Private Lewis—no longer Private Lewis, really—was found by an older woman with silver hair and a man in a trucker cap. Their mother grabbed them so hard the soldier staggered backward. Lewis started crying immediately. Hozhoni watched from a distance. The soldier looked over their family’s shoulder, scanning the field.

Their eyes found her. For a moment, neither moved. Then Lewis stood a little straighter and gave her a salute. Not formal. Not required. Just grateful. Hozhoni returned it. A small nod followed. Lewis smiled, wiped their face, and let their family pull them away again. Ramirez stood beside Hozhoni with his arms folded.

“They did alright,” he said.

Hozhoni glanced at him.

“That is the closest thing you’ve ever said to being proud.”

Ramirez scoffed. “Don’t make it weird.”

Cooper looked out at the soldiers and their families. “I’m proud. I’ll say it.”

Bennett made a face. “You’re both getting soft.”

“You fixed somebody’s napkin yesterday,” Cooper said.

“It was on the floor.”

“And you picked it up.”

“It was a hazard.”

Ramirez smirked. “Soft.”

Bennett glared at both of them. Hozhoni laughed quietly. The sound surprised her. She looked back toward the field. The soldiers were no longer recruits. No longer the scared, overwhelmed kids who had stumbled off the bus weeks ago. They were still young. Still learning. Still going to make mistakes. But now they had the beginning of something solid beneath their feet. And Hozhoni had helped put it there.

By early afternoon, Family Day was in full swing. The soldiers showed relatives the barracks, the training field, the dining facility, the obstacle course that had haunted them for weeks. Families took pictures beneath signs and in front of buildings. Parents listened wide-eyed as their children explained weapon qualifications, road marches, field problems, and every ridiculous punishment that had seemed catastrophic at the time.

Hozhoni stayed professional until the final family departed. Then she turned in her campaign hat. Signed the last paperwork. Acknowledged the final handoff. And went home. The second her front door shut behind her, she let out a long breath. No yelling. No formation. No recruits waiting for instructions. Just quiet.

Her apartment was dark and still, warm from the late afternoon sun. She kicked off her boots by the door, dropped her keys in the bowl beside them, and stood there for a moment in socks and silence. Then she went straight to the shower. A real shower. Not a rushed two-minute rinse between duty shifts. Not cold field water. Not a sink splash in a barracks bathroom. Hot water. Steam. No one knocking on the door. Hozhoni stood beneath it until her shoulders finally loosened.

By the time she got out, her hair was damp and loose down her back. She changed into oversized black sleep shorts, a soft old T-shirt, and thick socks. No uniform. No rank. No campaign hat. Just Hozhoni. She curled up on the couch with a blanket and her phone, fully intending to order takeout, ignore everyone, and enjoy the fact that nobody was shouting her name from across a field.

Then someone unlocked her front door. Hozhoni froze. The door swung open. Troy walked in first like he paid rent there. Kyle followed behind him carrying two grocery bags and looking far too comfortable for someone entering her home without knocking. Hozhoni slowly turned on the couch.

“What the hell?”

Troy kicked the door shut behind him. “You’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“Company.”

“I didn’t ask for company.”

Kyle set the grocery bags on the counter. “We brought food.”

Hozhoni narrowed her eyes. Troy pointed at her with approval. “See? This is exactly why I have a spare key.”

“You do not have a spare key.”

Troy reached into his pocket and held it up. Hozhoni stared at it.

“You stole that.”

“I borrowed it permanently.”

“That is stealing.”

“You gave it to me after your pipe burst last winter.”

“I gave it to you for emergencies.”

Troy glanced around the quiet apartment. “You have been on your couch for thirty-seven minutes, staring at the wall, running on coffee and ceremony adrenaline.”

Hozhoni blinked. “How do you know that?”

Kyle set a carton of takeout on the counter. “You texted me at 1508: ‘I made it home. I’m not moving again.’”

Hozhoni looked at him. Then at her phone. Then back at him.“That was not an invitation.”

“No,” Kyle said, quiet and honest. “It wasn’t.”

Troy folded his arms. “But it sounded like a warning sign.”

“I’m fine.”

Kyle and Troy both stared at her. Hozhoni groaned and sank deeper into the couch.

“I hate both of you.”

“Noted,” Troy said, already heading toward her kitchen cabinets. “Where are your plates?”

“You know where my plates are.”

“Exactly.”

Kyle glanced at her blanket-covered legs.

“You eat today?”

Hozhoni closed her eyes.

“Oh my God.”

“That means no,” Troy called from the kitchen.

“I ate at the Family Day lunch.”

Kyle lifted a brow. “What?”

“Half a chicken wrap.”

“That is not a meal,” Troy said.

“It had lettuce.”

“Lettuce is not a personality,” Troy replied.

Kyle smiled into the takeout bag.

Hozhoni glared at both of them.

“You two are insufferable.”

“Still not boring,” Kyle said.

Her eyes snapped to him. Kyle’s smile deepened.

Troy looked between them. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Hozhoni said immediately.

“Absolutely nothing,” Kyle added.

Troy narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I hate that.”

“You’ll survive,” Hozhoni told him.

Troy brought three plates to the coffee table, along with containers of food. Burgers. Fries. Chicken tenders. A giant soda for Hozhoni with no alcohol in sight. Kyle set it down in front of her.

“Coke,” he said. “Sealed bottle.”

Hozhoni’s expression softened before she could stop it.

“You remembered.”

Kyle looked at her like that was obvious. “Of course I remembered.”

Troy looked between them again. Then slowly turned toward the kitchen. “I’m going to pretend I forgot something.”

“You did not forget anything,” Hozhoni called after him.

“I forgot my peace.”

Kyle sat on the other end of the couch, leaving room between them. Not crowding. Not pushing. Just present. Hozhoni looked down at the food. Then at him.

“You didn’t have to come over.”

“I know.”

“You had your own plans.”

“I changed them.”

“Why?”

Kyle’s answer took a second. Not because he didn’t have one. Because he wanted to give her the right one.

“Because you spent ten weeks giving everything you had to those soldiers,” he said. “Today was big. You should get to come down from it with someone around.”

Hozhoni swallowed. Troy returned with napkins, saw her expression, and wisely did not make a joke. For a while, they just ate. The apartment filled with quiet conversation and the soft rustle of takeout wrappers. Troy told them about one soldier’s uncle who had tried to salute every drill sergeant he saw. Kyle talked about a parent who had cornered him with questions about SAS recruiting until Troy pretended there was an emergency across the field.

Hozhoni laughed more than she expected to. She told them about Lewis’s family. About the salute. About seeing the same recruit who had once been terrified of her standing in uniform with their shoulders back. Kyle listened without interrupting. Troy did too.“I’m proud of them,” Hozhoni admitted eventually, voice quieter.

Troy leaned back in his chair. “I know.”

Kyle’s eyes stayed on her.

“They’d be proud to hear you say it.”

Hozhoni shook her head. “They don’t need to hear it from me.”

“They do,” Kyle said softly.

She looked at him. The room went a little quieter. Then Troy cleared his throat loudly.

“Okay, no emotional eye contact at my dinner table.”

Hozhoni blinked. “This is my apartment.”

“Your apartment, my dinner table.”

Kyle laughed. Hozhoni threw a fry at Troy. He caught it in his mouth.

“Disgusting,” she muttered.

“Talented.”

“You’re lucky I’m off-duty.”

Troy grinned. “You’re softer off-duty.”

Hozhoni pointed at him. “Do not spread that rumor.”

Kyle’s smile turned warm. Too warm. Hozhoni looked away before he could see what it did to her. But he had already seen. Of course he had. The day eventually dimmed into evening. The takeout containers sat empty on the coffee table. Hozhoni remained curled beneath her blanket, feet tucked under her, hair still damp at the ends. Troy stood near the door, grabbing his keys.

“I’m leaving before this becomes unbearable.”

Hozhoni looked up. “You just got here.”

“I’ve been here three hours.”

She glanced at the clock. He was right. That was alarming. Troy leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“Proud of you, Kraken.”

Hozhoni went still. Then she shoved weakly at his side. “Don’t dad me.”

“Love you too.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Text me tomorrow.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You won’t. You’ll text Kyle first.”

Hozhoni threw another fry. Troy ducked this time, laughing as he opened the door. Kyle stood to follow him. Hozhoni’s chest tightened unexpectedly. Troy noticed. His eyes shifted between them. Then he looked at Kyle.

“Take your time.”

Kyle nodded once. Troy gave Hozhoni a smug little smile before leaving. The door clicked shut. Silence settled around them. Kyle looked at Hozhoni from across the room. “You want me to go too?”

She should have said yes. She had been looking forward to quiet. To being alone. To shutting everything off for a few hours. Instead, she looked down at the blanket gathered in her hands.

“No,” she said quietly.

Kyle’s face softened.

“No?”

Hozhoni cleared her throat.

“You can stay a little.”

His smile was small.

“Alright.”

He sat back down, a little closer this time but still not touching. Hozhoni leaned her head against the couch cushion.

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I did something important.”

Kyle was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, “You did.”

Hozhoni’s eyes stung. She stared at the dark television screen so she would not have to look at him.

“I just trained them.”

“You did more than that.”

Her throat tightened. Kyle didn’t reach for her. Didn’t force her to answer. He just stayed beside her while the last of the afternoon light disappeared beyond the window. Eventually, Hozhoni shifted beneath the blanket. Her shoulder brushed his. Kyle stayed still. Then she let her head rest lightly against him. Just for a second. Maybe longer. Neither of them said anything. For the first time since the Forge began, Hozhoni let herself stop being the Kraken. And Kyle stayed exactly where she put him.

#call of duty #cod #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #alternate universe #black ops #troy marshall #under the campaign hat #Hozhoni Vargas

Chapter Nine — They Were Soldiers Now

The Forge did not end with one dramatic moment. It ended in pieces. One more mile when their feet were blistered. One more hill when their rucks felt welded to their shoulders. One more movement lane when their hands shook from exhaustion and lack of sleep. One more time getting up after someone said, Keep moving.

For days, the recruits had been pushed past every comfortable version of themselves.

They crawled through dirt. They moved through darkness with only red lenses and whispered commands. They worked tactical lanes with aching legs and raw hands. They learned how long an hour could feel when every muscle in their body begged them to stop. And they did not quit.

Not one of them. By the time the final march began, the formation barely looked like the same group of civilians who had stumbled off the bus ten weeks earlier. Their uniforms were stained with dust and sweat. Their faces were hollowed out with fatigue. Their boots were scuffed, their shoulders rubbed raw beneath their ruck straps.

But their spacing held. Their heads stayed up. When one recruit stumbled, another reached for their pack frame before they went down. When someone’s canteen ran low, a battle buddy shared water, still disgusting. Heathens. When the pace slowed, the recruits at the front adjusted without being told. They were moving as one unit now. Hozhoni walked beside the formation near the rear, her own gear heavy, her voice rougher than usual.

“Do not look at the whole road,” she called. “Pick a point. Reach it. Then pick another.”

A private near the back shook their head, sweat pouring from beneath their cover.

“I can’t, Drill Sergeant.”

Hozhoni stepped beside them.

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t feel my feet.”

“Then feel your next step.”

The recruit stared at her. Hozhoni’s eyes stayed steady.

“You do not need to be strong for the next ten miles. You need to be strong for one step.”

The private swallowed hard. Then they took one. And another. Hozhoni stayed beside them until the road stretched forward again. Near the front, Drill Sergeant Ramirez had gone quieter too. Still intimidating. Still demanding. But every now and then, he would glance over his shoulder and make sure everyone was still there. Drill Sergeant Cooper passed a recruit a packet of electrolyte powder without saying a word.

SSG Bennett adjusted someone’s ruck strap when they were too tired to do it properly, then immediately barked, “Don’t make me do your job twice, Private.”

The recruit managed a weak, “No, Drill Sergeant.”

But Bennett’s hand stayed on the back of their ruck for two extra steps before he moved on. They were all tired. The drill sergeants included. But nobody stopped. Not until the sky began to darken. Not until the last stretch of road appeared beneath the orange glow of sunset. Not until the base lights came into view. A sound moved through the formation. Not cheering. Not yet. Just a broken, disbelieving murmur. They had made it back. Darkness had settled fully by the time they reached the final field.

Floodlights shone over the grass. The company guidon stood near the front. Senior cadre and the company commander waited in formation, their uniforms crisp against the chaos of exhausted recruits. The trainees arrived in uneven steps. Some stumbled. Some leaned heavily into their rucks. One recruit nearly collapsed the second they stopped moving, only for their battle buddy to catch their arm and keep them upright.

Hozhoni watched them all. Her throat tightened. Ten weeks ago, some of these same recruits had been unable to secure a locker. Some had cried during PT. Some had wanted to quit during the first road march. Now they stood there filthy, exhausted, and still upright.

“Formation,” Ramirez called, though his voice had softened around the edges. “Dress right, dress!”

The recruits moved. Slower than normal. But they moved. They corrected the line. Shoulders aligned. Faces forward. Soldiers. The company commander stepped in front of them. For once, nobody shouted. The commander looked over the formation, eyes lingering on every exhausted face.

“You have completed one of the most demanding periods of initial entry training,” he said. “You have been tested physically, mentally, and emotionally.”

The recruits stood silent.

“You have learned that discipline is more than following orders. It is what you do when you are tired. It is what you do when no one is watching. It is what you do for the soldier beside you.”

Hozhoni’s eyes moved down the line. A recruit shifted their weight, fighting to stay upright. Their battle buddy subtly leaned closer. No one else would have noticed. Hozhoni did. The company commander lifted a small coin between his fingers.

“Tonight, you will receive your Forge completion coin. You earned it through effort, endurance, accountability, and refusing to quit.”

The first name was called. A recruit stepped forward. Their movement was stiff, almost mechanical, but when the company commander placed the coin in their palm, something changed in their face.

Shock. Pride. Relief. They saluted. The commander returned it. Then they stepped back into formation. One by one, every recruit was called. names rang out into the dark. Boots moved across the grass. Coins changed hands. Some recruits smiled despite themselves. Some blinked furiously, trying not to cry. Others stared down at the coin in their palm like it was proof that the last ten weeks had actually happened.

Hozhoni stood beside the other drill sergeants, arms folded behind her back. Her expression remained controlled. Professional. But when one of her roughest recruits walked forward—Private Lewis, the emergency-snack private—she watched their hands shake around the coin.

They had survived her. They had survived themselves. When Lewis turned back toward formation, their eyes caught Hozhoni’s. She gave one small nod. That was all. But Lewis stood a little taller. By the end of the ceremony, the formation was quieter than ever. The company commander addressed them one final time.

“Recruits,” he said.

A pause. Then his expression shifted. “Soldiers.”

The formation broke. Not in discipline. In emotion. A cheer rose, ragged and exhausted and loud enough to shake the field. Some recruits threw their heads back. Others laughed. A few openly cried into their sleeves while pretending they were just wiping sweat away.

Ramirez looked down, jaw tight. Cooper wiped a hand quickly over his face and muttered, “Allergies.”

Bennett scoffed. “At night?”

“Shut up.”

Hozhoni looked at Cooper, “loser” she murmured low. Troy, standing near the back with some of the other cadre, saw the shine in her eyes anyway.

He didn’t say a word.

The recruits were led toward the field site where one large bonfire had been set up in metal fire rings.

Nothing wild.

Nothing reckless. Just controlled fire, folding chairs, music low in the background, and food that did not come from an MRE pouch. For the first time in ten weeks, they were allowed to sit without being told how. They clustered around the flames in small groups, shoulders touching, boots stretched toward the heat. Someone had found a bag of marshmallows. Someone else passed around packets of hot chocolate. Two recruits started laughing so hard over a story from Red Phase that they nearly tipped backward off a bench.

“No way,” one said, eyes wide. “You really asked Drill Sergeant Vargas if she was mad at you?”

“I was nineteen and terrified!”

“She is always mad at somebody!”

Hozhoni, standing a few yards away with a paper cup of coffee, slowly turned her head. The recruits froze. The private who had said it looked ready to evaporate. Hozhoni stared at them for a long second.

Then she said, “I am currently off the clock.”

The recruits blinked. Hozhoni took a sip of coffee.

“But you’re still wrong. I am not always mad at somebody.”

Private Lewis spoke before they could stop themself.

“Who are you mad at right now, Drill Sergeant?”

The whole fire circle went silent. Hozhoni looked at Lewis. Then, somehow, a tiny smile tugged at her mouth.

“Marshall,” she said immediately.

From across the field, Troy looked up from a folding chair beside Kyle.

“What did I do?”

“Exist loudly,” Hozhoni called back.

The recruits laughed. Real laughter. Not nervous. Not forced. Just relief pouring out of people who had held their breath for ten weeks and finally realized they could exhale. Kyle watched Hozhoni over the rim of his soda bottle. She had traded her campaign hat for a knit cap, her hair tucked beneath it, hands wrapped around coffee. She was still in uniform. Still the Kraken. But she looked lighter. Like the fire had softened some of the weight she carried. Troy glanced at him.

“You staring again?”

Kyle didn’t look away. “Observing.”

“Sure.”

Hozhoni noticed them watching. Of course she did. She narrowed her eyes across the field. Kyle lifted his drink in a small toast. She rolled her eyes. But she smiled. The next morning, chow looked nothing like chow had looked for the past ten weeks. No rushed lines. No drill sergeant screaming about elbows on tables. No recruits inhaling food in three minutes because they had to be somewhere else. They entered the dining facility in a loose group, still walking carefully from sore muscles, but laughing now. Laughing. Hozhoni stood near the entrance with Ramirez, Cooper, and Bennett as the newly made soldiers filed through.

“Within reason,” Ramirez called. “Do not embarrass us.”

A soldier paused with two cinnamon rolls, a stack of pancakes, bacon, eggs, hash browns, fruit, and a yogurt. Ramirez stared at the tray. The soldier stared back.

“Within reason,” Ramirez repeated.

The soldier slowly put one cinnamon roll back.

“Good choice,” Ramirez said.

At another table, someone was eating cereal and pancakes together. Cooper walked past, looked down, and shook his head.

“That is a crime.”

The soldier grinned. “But it’s my crime, Drill Sergeant.”

Cooper’s expression twitched.

“Fair.”

Hozhoni moved through the dining facility more slowly than usual. She watched recruits take their time. Watched them pass salt across tables. Watched one soldier tell a story with dramatic hand gestures while their entire group dissolved into laughter. No one was being smoked. No one was getting corrected for chewing too loud. No one was terrified to look up. For the first time in ten weeks, the dining hall sounded alive. A soldier near the back lifted a plastic cup of orange juice.

“To not getting yelled at during chow!”

A few others lifted their cups. Hozhoni heard it. She stopped beside their table. The soldiers froze. She looked at the raised drinks. Then at their faces.

“Enjoy your meal,” she said.

And kept walking.

The table went silent for half a second.

Then someone whispered, “Did she just let that happen?”

Private Lewis grinned into their pancakes.

“She’s off the clock.”

Across the dining hall, Kyle stood with Troy near the far wall, watching the chaos unfold. Kyle looked at Hozhoni as she paused near a table full of recruits.

“She did good,” he said quietly.

Troy’s expression softened.

“She always does.”

Hozhoni looked over then. She caught Kyle’s eye. He lifted his brows in silent question. You alright? She looked around the chow hall. At soldiers eating too much food. At Ramirez pretending he was not proud. At Cooper quietly letting someone have a third cup of coffee. At Bennett standing near the exit like he was still terrifying, even though he had just picked up a dropped napkin for a soldier with sore knees. Then Hozhoni gave Kyle one small nod. Yeah. For once, she really meant it.

#call of duty #cod #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #alternate universe #black ops #troy marshall #under the campaign hat

why are so many cod x reader fics written from the perspective of an american reader

like i understand the authors might be american but i almost never see any with a british reader insert

i just want to read one that doesn't make a dumb joke about simon drinking tea because I DRINK TEA AND ITS GOOD AND ITS NORMAL FOR ME BECAUSE IM BRITISH

any british cod writers plug yourselves NOW

#cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle garrick #john price #cod #cod modern warfare

Falling asleep on his parent's couch is an age old habit. Kyle has simply never encountered a comfier couch, it's harder to squeeze himself into a shape that fits at his adult age but he'll succeed if it offers the opportunity for a nap.

It's stained and worn, red marks from his sister's brief stint as an artist, a slash in the fabric from that time a craft knife took the brunt of what could have been a leg wound. His history is entwined with the fibers of the couch, memories have bled into the material and cannot be erased no matter what product someone uses or how hard they scrub.

The couch is also Kyle's favourite sibling.

Long ago had the magic faltered, drifting away on the couch to wake up with a familiar, knitted and every so slightly wonky blanket strewn across his shoulders. The coincidental occurrence had come to an end when the blanket no longer covered him whole.

Yet, as a grown man with blood on his hands and an ache in his muscles, he opens his eyes to a familiar blanket corner pressed against his cheek. It covers little of him now, he's grown to much for anyone to recognise him as the chubby cheeked, smiley baby who spent his days drooling across the green wool. It's still as comforting as it was they day his biggest worry was the scrape on his knee.

"Bit old for this now, am I not?"

His mother doesn't look the slightest bit guilty, but Kyle knows deep in his very soul that she already has a photo of him curled up with his childhood blanket that he can never let see the light of day.

"Doesn't matter what age you are, you're still my baby."

He does not help the childish allegations by smacking her with the corner of the aforementioned blanket and whining, "Mum," like an embarrassed pre-teen.

Kyle treasures the moment, for the many he knows that cannot.

#kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick

#kyle garrick

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