👀👀 Let Me Throw You Some Kyle Coded Quotes. Do What You Wish With It 🫴

You know what one of my favorite tropes is?

When reader starts dating someone in the 141 and quickly finds out that they’re a package deal.

The first time you meet the rest of them (very early on) they’re hovering around the edges, just waiting to be let into the group, like a pack of shy dogs wanting attention and to be loved but scared of demanding it, scared of frightening you away.

And then you look at all of them, truly look—at this captain who always has to be right. If he’s not right 100% of the time then people he cares about get hurt.

At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.

At this handsome sergeant, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to follow in his captains footsteps, but the steps are so large he scrambles behind, always feeling like he’s never going to catch up.

At this energetic sergeant who has been shooed away again and again, never finding the person with the patience to deal with his attention. Always loud, always restless, looking forward to the next thing.

And you’re standing there looking at them—deciding if you want to let them into your home, into your life.

Because they are a unit, and you can pull one out for a short time but they will end up wound back into the twisted rope before the end.

So you do.

You let them in.

But they are dogs through and through. Pack animals to their core and you’re part of them now.

No going back from here.

COD Men and Bad Brain Days

This is my self indulgant way of dealing with the titanic amount of stress that is making my brain whisper of the void. I will stick around, I have to much to be a menace about but why not think about how they would deal with it? Plus if my mother (derogatory) gets to outlive me? Absolutely not.

CW: Suicidal thoughts mentioned

Johnny: Froze a bit once he understands what you are saying.

"Bonnie, why? What? I don't understand?" He holds your face so tight as he flicks his gaze between your eyes.

You laugh lightly, "There is nothing to understand Johnny, sometimes my brain just starts throwing around death as an option. I've learned to tell people so they can help me keep me present. I don't want to die, and I have no plans. I just need you to know that if I randomly start crying I'm okay. I already have an appointment with my doctor and my therapist scheduled to look at my meds."

The concern doesn't leave his face as he pulls you in for a hug. Johnny is always watchful of you but it definately takes on a new level after telling him about the thoughts coming back.

Kyle: Pulled the car over the moment he realizes what you said to him and rests his head on the steering wheel.

"Thank you for telling me, what can I do for you?"

Fighting back the tears you blink and fan your eyes.

"Nothing really? My therapist challenged me to tell someone the next time these thoughts pop up, and I trust you enough to know you won't freak out." You watch him carefully take in several deep breaths before he sits upright and looks at you.

If his eyes are a bit shiny with tears? Neither of you mention it.

"Want to get a drink and sit in the sun for a bit?" He offers.

"I would love that." The tears flow this time. Kyle holds your hand until he is forced to let it go to get out of the car.

Gary: He would find you mid-breakdown because dammit you thought you were past this? It had been years since the last time your brain betrayed you like this and life was going good for once? Yes, you were under some stress but not enough to warrent this overreaction by your brain.

He would pull you into a hug as he sits next to you on the floor and hum lullabies and the randomest collecitons of songs that live inside his head. When you can finally breath without a hitch in your breath he would ask what is wrong.

"My brain is lying to me again. Saying that being dead would be easier than dealing with all this stress," you sniffle into his shoulder.

"Being dead would be easier," he observes calmly.

When you shoot him a glare because that is NOT helpful, he smiles and rubs a thumb through the tears leftover on your face.

"But I know you don't want that, and I'll keep you present and healthy. Let's get some food delivered and then go over some of the things I can take off your plate until things settle down, alright?"

When that causes a new round of tears Gary orders dinner from his phone before coaxing you to the couch with the promise of your favorite show (He can't stand it but knows it will help.)

Simon: The hug he would give you after you hold him? Soul altering. He holds you until you feel real again and presses a kiss to your head. If you find something helpful he asks that you share because he has dealt with his own share of suicidal thoughts ravaging his already messed up mind.

He starts picking up tasks around the house, starting the shower or making dinner, as a way to help you. He checks in at least once a day. He isn't overbearing about it, knowing that the fact you told him is a huge sign of trust and he wouldn't dare abuse it.

John: Oh this man, he would be calling your doctor and therapist and setting up an appointment for you the instant you fell asleep for one of those exhaustion naps. He would book you for a hair cut, a massage, and to get your nails done before the week is out.

He's lost good friends to suicide and the idea that you might disappear? That your thoughts might get to loud to hear that he loves you? He would never recover if he lost you like that. John makes you cry again when he explains everything he has set up for you but he shows his love through actions and these are things he can control. If he could mount a full scale invasion on your brain to kick out whatever makes you think of death as an option he would in a heartbeat.

Masterlist

society of brilliance ft. veritas ratio

in which you come home and soothe veritas and his insecurities in a shared bath—which consists of you making a society just for the two of you. luckily, it’s more than enough to ease his troubled mind

contains: gender neutral reader ; non sexual nudity ; shared baths ; slight references to veritas character story iii ; reverse comfort ; veritas is not taking his lack of invitation to genius society lightly :( ; i invite you all to join my nous hate club

veritas doesn’t greet you when you come home. you’d be disappointed any other time, but the glow of light under the cracks through the bathroom door tells you precisely why he’s not there to greet you—you can’t help but be endeared.

so you pad into the bathroom, grinning softly as his head lifts from resting against the edge of the bathtub, eyes opening to glance over your figure.

they brighten a bit when they take in the view of you.

“no book?” you raise a brow, mildly shocked.

“is it hard to believe i’d like to relax without reading?” he closes his eyes again, relaxing once more as he listens to you shed your clothing.

“well, i suppose not,” you chuckle, “but you’re a bit…”

“go on,” he presses dryly, “finish your thought.”

“a bit uptight. i don’t know if you can relax without reading something or another.”

it’s cheeky, the way you bite your lip and suppress a grin, watching as he rolls his eyes (but he could never hope to hide the fondness in them, even if he tried). you reach over one the last of your clothes drop to the floor, hand cupping his cheek as he sighs and melts into your palm.

“well, i certainly won’t be relaxing now that your presence is here to disrupt my peace,” he quips, letting a smug grin of his own stretch over his cheeks as you huff.

“long day?” you murmur, tracing your thumb along his skin soothingly as he hums, pressing closer into your touch, “it must be if you couldn’t wait long enough to greet me.”

“my apologies darling,” he says quietly. you frown a little, tracing the darkening circles under his eyes as your thumb travels higher across his face. “i’m afraid my mind was a bit occupied.”

“oh veritas.”

it’s delicate, the way you say his name. fragile, like he’s one moment from sinking into the water from the weight of his mind, unable to resurface for a breath of air. veritas has been different since accepting the invitation from the ipc—a bit more defeated, perhaps. a lot more distracted.

you pull your hand away, much to his displeasure, waving it to gesture him forward in the tub as he looks at you with creases building in his forehead.

“but—”

“don’t argue for once, you difficult man,” you scold, “just do as i say.”

“how commanding,” comes his reply in a half-hearted scoff. he listens nonetheless, inching forward so you can sit yourself behind him, sinking into the warm water as you collect him in your arms and pull him to lean against your chest.

he relaxes instantly. more than he could before your arrival, like the presence of you makes breathing easier, more simple. in and out, inhale and exhale. his chest rises and falls under your hand, slow circles smoothing over the firm muscle as his head falls back against your shoulder.

veritas doesn’t let you hold him often—he prefers the weight of you in his arms, but sometimes it’s nice when you take on his weight, too. when his mind is heavy and loaded with the endless thoughts of his. and you like it too, the feeling of him pressing into you, the feeling of him settled into your hold as you keep him afloat.

you break the silence first, pressing a kiss into his head as you whisper, “care to enlighten me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“are you sure you can handle it? i have a rather advanced thought process,” he teases.

“i’d say your mind is regressed,” you snort, squeezing the rubber duck floating in the water a small distance away.

you can practically see his pout even if it’s not in your line of sight as he clicks his teeth and says in an offended tone, “being intelligent doesn’t mean i have to deny myself of a few simple joys.”

“aren’t i the only joy you need?” you bat your lashes, kissing the back of his neck as he chuckles.

“i suppose you are sufficient enough, yes.”

“just sufficient?” you gasp, biting his shoulder playfully as he shakes against you with soft laughter. “if you don’t love me, just say that.”

“there you go again,” he hums in amusement, shaking his head as he tilts his head and eyes you with an endeared glint in his eyes, “always so theatric over the most trivial of causes.”

“someone has to keep things interesting. your idea of fun is picking apart a student’s thesis.”

“i enable them to grow,” he corrects, thoroughly unimpressed as he purses his lips and gives you a dry look. “it’s a favor, really.”

“i don’t know what to do with you. too smart for your own good.”

he sighs, slumping against your figure as he quietly mumbles, “perhaps not smart enough.”

you frown, the edges of your mouth curling in an unhappy twist downwards as you process his words. veritas is undoubtedly brilliant—you’d never thought he’d question the fact. of course, he’s tried time and time again to catch the gaze of nous, and of course, you’ve always known there’s a lingering air of self deprecation at his lack of success.

but you never thought him to doubt himself—not of his capabilities, not of his brilliance. his brilliance is the most beautiful thing about him, you think. he’s so quick to understand things—like how to figure you out like it’s easy and simple. how to love you in ways you didn’t even know you want to be loved. how to read you before you understand your own mind.

he’s so bright, so willing to share his light so you can glow too, unwilling to see you as a mere dimness beside him.

you tighten your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into his cheek as you press sweet, feathery kisses to his skin.

“if you consider yourself not smart enough, i fear for what you think of my intelligence.”

“i think you’re brilliant,” he says instantly, “there’s no doubt.”

“then why doubt yourself?”

he’s silent. you know the answer, even if he doesn’t want to say it. because if not smart enough to be acknowledged by the aeon he’s dedicated his aspirations to, the aeon that stands to represent the very purpose of his existence, the aeon that signifies the embodiment of wisdom itself—how can he consider himself enough?

how can you consider him enough? he wants to ask, but the words never form on his tongue, caught in his throat in a lump he can’t even swallow down. it’s stuck, persistently lodged and silencing him as he lays limply in your arms.

“oh, veritas,” you say with so much gentleness, he sighs shakily at the sound of his name from your tongue. so sweet, so pleasant—like it’s dipped his honey from the comb. “you are far too capable for it to be a cause for question.”

“am i?” he chuckles dryly, lips tugging ruefully into a painful smile, “perhaps i’d have reached my goals then, wouldn’t i?”

“perhaps it’s not your intelligence that separates you from the genius society,” you murmur thoughtfully, combing wet fingers through his hair, scratching tenderly at his scalp as he shivers at your touch.

“then, pray tell, what would it be, darling?” he asks, indulging you.

“your compassion, maybe. you’re of the few geniuses that don’t forget what it means to be human. i don’t think a machine declared as the face of intelligence has the capacity to understand that.”

“you shouldn’t speak of the divine like that,” he snorts.

“nobody is as divine as me,” you reply with a giggle, earning a tender squeeze at your thigh as he smiles at you with a roll of his eyes.

“is that so?”

“you don’t agree?”

he turns, kissing the pout off of your lips as he whispers, “oh, i do. i certainly do—you’re of the most divinest of beings in all of the cosmos. a truly magnificent…piece of work.”

“i’ll ignore that last part just for today,” you say pointedly. you peck his lips again, and again, and when he settles deeper into your chest, relaxing against your body, you tighten your hold around him. “but i hereby declare you an honorary member of the society of brilliance—”

he cuts you off with a short. you whine, slapping his arm in protest as he stifles his laughs.

“and just how many members are in this society?”

“currently two,” you glare, “but it’s at risk of becoming one if you mock it any further. it’s a very serious organization.”

“sorry, sorry. it won’t happen again,” he poorly fights back a grin. (and he could never hope to successfully hide a smile around your presence, he’s sure such a feat is impossible. you write joy on his features as easy as pen on paper).

“it better not. this society is far more sophisticated than that child’s play of an organization…society for geniuses, was it?”

“genius society,” he correct, playing along.

“oh yes,” you nod, pretending to snap in recognition, “that’s the one. such an undignified group of individuals. a shame—they had potential. it’s a good thing we’re not like them.”

“a relief indeed,” he smiles.

it’s so raw, so real, so pure, he can’t help but twist in your arms and press his lips to you, hoping to physically share the joy of you evident in the curl of his mouth. the dimple in his cheek. the crinkles of his eyes.

you’ve written yourself into every part of him, so seamlessly intwined with his body and mind, it’s difficult to doubt himself. because to doubt himself is to doubt you, and veritas could never hope to doubt you. not when you’re so divine, so bright and beautiful, so precious.

a wonder to society.

he’s lucky to be acknowledged by such brilliance.

“you’re the most capable man i know,” you whisper against his lips. he hums in satisfaction as you peck them gently before adding, “i have very high standards, you know.”

“i’m relieved i’ve met them. my greatest achievement to date.”

“i’m glad you’re wise enough to realize as such.”

“is my spot in your exclusive society secured then?”

“hmm. i’ll think about it—you’re still on thin ice.”

if nous has 0 haters im dead. anyway. veritas, i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you. did i mention i love you

let my man into genius society!!!! he belongs there more than anyone else!!!!! actually tbh he’s too good for that group of ppl (i say this but ruan mei is my gf sorry queen ur the exception)

hi! i was wondering if you could do angst prompt 29 with zhongli? thank you!

Hi so this fic kind of went from fluff to angst and back to fluff. For the first time ever I ended an angsty fic happily. Hope you like it!

Word count: 1165

Rules and masterlist

You let out a hiss of pain, jerking your arm away as Zhongli tightens the bandage wrapped around your arm, amber gaze filled with worry.

“My apologies. I did not mean to cause you more pain,” his amber gaze softens and you shake your head.

“It’s alright,” you can’t help but smile at him, lost in the reflection of the moonlight on the amber pools that are your boyfriend’s eyes. You’re glad you chose to come to Luhua Pool at night, the moon amplifies the glow of his eyes.

His fingers linger on your skin, tips brushing against your palm before almost reluctantly letting you go. You hop right back into the pools of water, running your hand through the cooling liquid and splashing the lotus head growing in the middle.

Zhongli’s gaze lingers on the white bandage around your arm. Humans were fragile, that gash would take at least a few days to heal. An archon on the other hand would have healed such a minor injury in a few seconds. 

Yet, humans were so resilient. He couldn’t understand why, and the question of whether he could ever truly learn to live as a mortal surfaced once again.

Was he good enough for you?

“Are you coming into the water?” you call, breaking his train of thought. 

“I will be right there,” he replies. Rolling up his pants, he carefully steps into the pool, the water lapping above his ankles. You grin, flicking water at him before quickly hiding behind a rock.

“Please do not cut yourself again,” he reminds you worriedly. The rock you were currently hiding behind was the very same one that had cut you.

“I’ll be careful!” you peek out from behind the rock, hoping it would be enough to reassure him. He smiles back, moving over to splash you back. You laugh, scooping up some water and throwing it at your boyfriend.

The move catches your boyfriend off guard and he yelps in shock. Water droplets bead off his hair, dripping onto his clothes and he pushes his damp hair out of his face.

Oh no, he's hotter now.

Red creeps up on your face and you try to avert your gaze, but Zhongli closes the gap and lifts your chin up.

“Are you alright?” his gaze flicks over you, checking for any signs of a fever. He couldn’t have you falling sick under his watch.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you laugh nervously at how close his face is to yours.

“We should return home,” he frowns, still unsure about whether you had a fever. Without waiting for a reply, he lifts you up as though you weighed no lighter than a feather and carries you back.

His inhumane strength reminds you that he’s simply a retired archon who chose to form a contract of love with you, an average human whose lifespan was nothing but a speck compared to the thousands of years he has lived for.

Who are you next to the God of Dust, Guizhong? Why did he choose you? Compared to his previous lover, you’re nothing, and you know it.

You sigh, leaning against his warm chest as the negative thoughts crowd out every other thought. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, setting you down, “I will make some tea to drink before we sleep, please dry yourself off in the meantime.”

You nod, heading to the bathroom to grab a towel while he heads towards the kitchen. Your thoughts follow you all the way to your bed and you groan into your pillow. 

You hate feeling like this. It felt wrong when he had told you before that he loved you for who you were. Yet you would lapse into cycles such as these and sleep it off.

The weight never goes away.

The bed dips as Zhongli climbs onto it, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Good night,” he murmurs into your ear, his breaths tickling your hair. You simply stare straight at the wall, unable to sleep. Your fingers curl into the sheets as you try to hold back the tears. Why couldn’t you just accept the love you were given?

Little did you know he felt the same way.

Zhongli watches the rise and fall of your shoulders and tucks your hair behind your ears. 

How did he ever end up with someone as understanding as you? You chose to spend your life with him, someone shouldering the burden of thousands of years of memories instead of a man who could understand you far better as a mortal. 

The two of you are so mismatched that he has half a mind to ask if you want to break up with him.

“You deserve better,” the words tumble out of his mouth and suddenly he can’t stop the cascade of thoughts.

“I am unable to provide you with experiences a mortal lover can, and instead of enjoying your mortal life, you spend it teaching me what a mortal life is like. You should not be with me, I cannot give you what you want,” tears slide down his face as he tries to muffle his sobs. He shouldn’t you wake you up.

You immediately roll around, slightly panicked and gently wipe his tears away, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re wrong. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. You’re an archon who has seen so much, and yet you choose to live your life with a simple average human,” you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I know I’m nothing compared to Guizhong, I can’t fight, I don't know so much, heck I can’t even defend myself from a rock! I don’t deserve an archon as a lover. Even a retired one,” you laugh, blinking away the tears that have started to form.

He frowns and pulls you into a tight hug, careful not to squeeze you too tightly.

“Do not say that about yourself. You have taught me so much, much more than you know, and I am eternally grateful to you for that,” he buries his face into your hair, breathing in your scent.

“Most of all, you are not Guizhong. Do not compare yourself to her.”

“Double negative makes a positive,” you blurt out before flushing in embarrassment. You did not mean to say that out loud.

“I...am afraid I do not understand,” Zhongli blinks at you, confused.

“I meant that since you were being self-deprecating and I was also self-deprecating, which is a negative thing to do, it results in both of us deserving each other, which is a positive thing. Or something like that,” you shift awkwardly. 

The joke is now ruined after the explanation, there is no salvaging your pride.

To your surprise, he lets out a chuckle, “I see. I suppose it makes sense.”

He runs his fingers through your hair, humming softly as you press against him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Good night, my love.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Appreciation Recs

why? because i said so. the fact that he's the least appreciated is a fucking crime and we need to fix that😐

Miss Sunshine - @sofasoap - the fluff- THE FLUFF😭😭😭😭 this legit had me giggling and kicking my feet in the middle of the night, i swear❤️

White Flag - @writeforfandoms - i want to be saved by this man so fucking bad🥴 okay, stressful situation aside, this was so cute❤️

Gaz + comfort sex - @sprout-fics - right in the fucking feels😭😭😭 this makes me just so so so weeaakkk. please just say you wanted me dead because that's what i am rn😭🔥

State Of My Head - @writeforfandoms - THIS. FIC. IS. EVERYTHING TO ME❤️ from the moment kitty met Gaz and he was just so gentle and respectful when handling her AND HE SMELLED GOOD, he's just had me in a chokehold😭 *distant choking sobbing noises*

Wrong Room - @mangowafflesss - there's just something about college!Gaz that makes me so weak, okay?🥴 and you did it beautifully with this one. i love this fic so much😭😭😭

Gaz prompt - @mangowafflesss - he's such a bumbling little cutie, i love him so much. thank you for this🔥❤️

Where The Petals Fall - @deadbranch - i swear you are just amazing, alright? this fic is absolutely top tier and it had me in tears🔥🔥🔥

Gaz has baby-fever - @konigsblog - fucking. hell🥵 just kill me. kill me right now. that's what you want, isn't it? ISN'T IT??😭

Breeding Kink with Gaz - @konigsblog - same with this one! you are an absolute menace for this one🥵

Cult of Vagabonds - @halcyone-of-the-sea - listen, i know i added your fic to the July picklejar rec list, but can you blame me for adding you to this one? can you? no, i didn't think so❤️

shameless self-advertisement by @groguspicklejar

(because obviously i couldn't find enough Gaz fics out there and people can't seem to find the reblog button🙄 so i find other ways to show my work🙃)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick really soft hc that nobody asked for

Kyle picks you up from work

Kyle Garrick on boys night

Two Peas In A Pod

fanarts

Kyle checking you out - @temeyes - if Gaz looked at me like this, i-i would do anything he asks of me🥴

gaz. need i say more? -@skyspats - nope. nothing else needs to be said🌹

Rizz Master Gaz - @ramvur - HE HAS TOO MUCH POWER!!! but he uses it accordingly👌🏼✨💯

Charming Gaz - @munyon - you know what the first thing i said upon seeing this? it was "oh fuck🥵" because yes, that's what i would like this man to do to me. thanks.

Garden Knome 141 - @grimmzee - quick question: was Gaz hanging upside down a callback to the helicopter scene? because it feels oddly reminiscent😉 in a cute way, of course✨

Little British Guy - @tanukigobrrr - you have no idea how much i love this, it's so so cute🌻🌻🌻

Amsterdam Outfit - @minkei - THE AMSTERDAM FIT WAS SO ICONIC, I'M SO GLAD YOU RECREATED IT😭✨🔥

Gaz Sketch - @chocolatestrawberry-poptart - the little heart on his hat is everything❤️❤️❤️

Gaz Angst - @reds-skull - GAZ ANGST IS TOP TIER AND YOU'RE RIGHT, THERE SHOULD BE MORE!!! this is so amazing and it deserves an award for putting tears in my eyes👌🏼✨💯

Gazzz - @loneghostwolf - i guess this doesn't technically classify as fanart but i wanted to save it here so i can revisit it because he just looks so good😭❤️

Boop! - @temeyes - SO. FUCKING. CUTE✨💯 Soap is a fucking menace, btw, but I'm not gonna lie and say i wouldn't have done the same, okay? okay bye❤️

How about a little argument and make up with Gaz 👀 He crosses a line and blurts out something he shouldn't have? I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort, thanks! Congrats on 5k!! 💕💕

—Didn't Mean It

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Arguments are rare, certainly ones that leave you in tears.] ❞

You ended up locking yourself in the bedroom to have some time to yourself, head under the covers and your eyes burning from the tears you’d shed over the course of hours. It had to be well into the night now—maybe even into tomorrow if you bothered to think realistically. 

An argument with your boyfriend was practically unheard of, certainly one that left you tearing up and your hands shaky. Your heart hurting. 

Kyle had gotten back from his deployment a week early just yesterday, and you had immediately known something was wrong. He was having a harder time re-adjusting to civilian life—was more curt in his answers to your questions even if you were just trying to understand how to make him feel better. The entire day had been spent with him blankly staring at the telly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

The fight had started about, of all things, the duffel bag of his belongings that you’d brought into the laundry room. You can’t remember most of it, but you remembered enough. 

“Gaz,” you level. “It’s a duffel bag. I just need it out of the walkway so I don’t trip over it.”

The man scoffs, but he can’t look at you. 

“What, you expecting someone over?” Your face wrinkles, head pulling a bit back like your neck was on a string. 

“...Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His brown eyes turn to you, burning as his hands twitch. “Having someone come over when I’m not around, yeah? Giving me a run-around?” 

For a moment you’re utterly silent, not blinking as you stare at him in shock. When you gather your senses, you force out through a tight throat. “Garrick, I suggest you be careful with what you’re saying to me. You need to sit down and think rationally—it’s just a bag, this is ridiculous. Why in the world would I ever do something like that to you?”

His jaw clenches. 

“I don’t need to bloody sit down!” Kyle snaps, head turning away with a bit of panic in his eyes. It became apparent pretty quickly that he wasn’t in the right headspace and he knew it. “I need to know if you’ve been fucking someone else!” 

Your body tenses, eyes snapping wide. A swift silence falls between the two of you as your mouth gapes at Gaz. As if just realizing what he’d said, the man puts a hand on the back of his head and steps back, lips opening and closing. 

“W-wait, I didn’t…I didn’t mean it like that, Love. I…” You’re already walking away, hands at your sides clenched and tears stinging the back of your eyes like knives. 

So here you were, lying on the bed and breathing low—eyes half closed as Gaz’s shadow doesn't leave from under the door. He’d been there the whole time, sitting on the floor across the hall. Waiting. On occasion he’d speak; talk about how the deployment went. 

You only really listened in the dim shadows when he offered an explanation for his attitude. 

“I…” His voice is muffled, but it’s still Kyle. “I held a kid as he died, Love.” You’re fully awake in an instant, eyes stuck to the dark wood. “I watched…I just fucking watched, and I couldn’t do a damn thing. I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to take it out on you—I…Bloody Hell, I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I didn’t mean it. Fuck I didn’t mean it.” 

The man is getting choked up, his words jumbling together as a deep pain grows over the airways. Your hand is on the handle of the door before you can remember your anger, opening it and darting across the small distance. You collide with his firm chest as the first of his sobs break out of his chest, his hands shakily curling around your back as you pull him up. 

“I’m sorry,” he utters, broken, as his head shoves itself into your neck. “I’m sorry.” Again, again, again. 

You hold him and he grasps onto you like a lifeboat, both unsure. Forcing down your own tears, you put a hand on his back and rub it up and down, whispering to him. 

“Shh, Kyle,” he sobs, shaking. “Hey, it’s alright—I know you didn’t mean it, Love. I know.”

“Isn’t an excuse,” the man mutters into your skin, your shirt sticking to your flesh. “Shouldn’t have said that to you. I don’t even know why I did—don’t even believe it; you’d never do that.” 

“No,” you whisper, reassuring him. “No, I wouldn’t.” 

Pulling back, you grab onto his cheeks and level his leaking eyes with yours, wiping with your thumbs at his cheeks; brushing over the scars on his left under-eye. He sags and tries to give you a wobbly smile. A second later you speak.

“You’re stuck with me, Kyle Garrick. For all of it,” you say firmly—hard. And you say it again, and will until he believes it. “For all of it.”

The both of you stay there for a long time until your foreheads collapse into each other and you finally see the honest flicker of his lips again. You share a small, knowing, look. 

“For all of it,” he utters, and slots his lips to yours; whispering apologies in between every kiss as he drags you impossibly closer.

Let's talk about Gaz.

A 1k character study of our favorite sergeant. Based off of this paragraph from this post:

At this handsome sergeant, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to follow in his captain's footsteps, but the steps are so large he scrambles behind, always feeling like he’s never going to catch up.

~~~~

Kyle knew who he wanted to be from an early age. He was smart—always able to see where the chips would fall in any situation. That combined with his looks meant he was able to control most situations with ease. If something was going to go tits up he could either mitigate it before hand or minimize the repercussions afterwards.

So when you met him, he very much seemed to have it all together.

He was all charming smiles and endless competence. At ease in any social setting—even a military award dinner.

You weren't sure how you ended up here—the military being dreadfully low on the list of things you had respect for—but it was an open bar and free dinner so you would try and hold back your complaining and critique.

You'd just settled into your seat when the one next to you was taken, a handsome man introducing himself as Kyle turned to you as soon as he sat down and the rest was history.

It was a matter of days before your first date and weeks before you decided you would be in a relationship, your dragging feet endlessly frustrating to him. He knew what he wanted (you) and he knew when (already) but he was understanding about your reservations.

Military men didn't have a good track record with their partners between abuse, cheating, and not being present. So as much as you wanted to fall headfirst into his everything you took your time.

It made it sweeter when you eventually moved in together.

The first time he broke down you didn't see it happen, only the aftermath. His eyes were red as if he had pressed his palms firmly against the sockets and twisted and his lip was swollen like he had been chewing on it, trying to keep quiet.

He didn't want to share when you asked—pried even but nobody said you were perfect—so you eventually left it alone, doing your best to show support however you could. If his favorite dinner made it's way to the table that night no one commented on it.

The next day was worse though.

Your partner was always level headed, not taking things to heart and keeping an affable disposition even when things got rough. So to have him snap at you, even if he immediately apologized sent up a warning flare in your mind.

It took time but you were able to wear him down and pulled him in for a conversation. Something was clearly going on if the look on his face was any indication.

Shuffling him onto the couch, you crawled over him and laid on top to pin him down, keeping him in place but also providing a comforting pressure for him to relax into. His arms wrapped around you to squeeze you tightly, almost like a life-sized stuffie.

What followed was a confession about an incident during his last op. Choices were made which ended up being the wrong ones and it was because of him.

"Luckily the captain was there, so no one died, but they would've, dove. If they had listened to me they would be dead and it would be all my fault."

Listening to the abbreviated version of the dressing down he received from Price made your own toes curl, secondhand shame flooding your veins. It made so much sense why he had been feeling the way he was.

Kyle looked up to Price more than anyone realized. Yes, he was his captain but he was also a father figure and a friend in several ways. To hear of him being stripped up one side and down the other made your heart hurt for him.

You didn't call attention to the fact that his voice broke or that the top of your head felt suspiciously damp where he had pressed his face to you. You were there to listen and provide any comfort you could.

You knew how he tried. You'd watched him stay up late prepping for missions before. Watched him go over paperwork he probably shouldn't have had deep into the evening hours, reading and memorizing and making plans. He would always follow Price but some day his captain wasn't going to be there anymore and it would all fall on him. He had to be prepared.

So why do I always seem to mess it up?

You didn't have an answer for that. You could try the platitudes—you're only human, everyone makes mistakes, everything turned out okay in the end—but they wouldn't do him much good and you knew that. All you could do was be there for him as he cried into your hair, holding him as tightly as you could while you reassured him everything was going to be okay, that you were there.

That night you made a call to a number that had been in your phone since nearly the beginning. Another number to call if something happened and you weren't able to reach him. It wasn't one you had had to call before.

The next evening you were putting the finishing touches on dinner when there was a knock at the front door.

Captain? You heard him question in surprise but were too far away to hear the response, just a low rumble echoing back. Moving the food to the table you called out that dinner was ready and to come sit down.

You got a heavyhearted smile from John and a questioning frown from Kyle as they both took their seats, digging into the meal with gusto regardless of any underlying emotions. They could be handled later, when there wasn't a hot meal sitting before them. Priorities after all.

The conversations over dinner were light, inconsequential things that didn't have any emotional depth to them. You were all too pleased to excuse yourself to the bedroom once dinner was done, leaving the two men to clean up the kitchen.

You knew from experience that having something to do with your hands when having emotional conversations made things significantly easier so you left them to it.

It was some time later that John came and said goodbye before he headed out, laying a heavy hand on your shoulder in thanks before stepping away. The flat was quiet after he left, as if he had taken a weight with him and now it was time to breathe.

Kyle turned off the lights and shuffled you into bed, curling around you and holding you to his chest. He was quiet for a long time before he finally whispered.

Thank you, love.

Read Simon's drabble here

Enjoy

Normal conversations to have on the plane

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