Kyle Gaz X Reader - Blog Posts

Yall my man is just the sweetest ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Kyle Garrick x f!reader

middle ages AU

very very fluffy | non descriptive smut

contains mentions of marital abuse (not kyle)

The castle walls were cold, but not colder than your husband's silence.

Duke Simon Riley was revered across the kingdom—war hero, iron-fisted ruler, silent shadow of a man with a gaze like flint. You were the jewel he’d claimed after the war, a marriage sealed with blood-stained hands and noble signatures. They called you fortunate. A lady. A duchess. A trophy.

But behind the stone facade, you were his maid. His mother. His wife. His burden.

The servants knew better than to look you in the eye when you dragged the tray of food down the hall, your silks dusted with ash from the hearth you stoked yourself. They whispered as you limped from the cellar with buckets of wine, sleeves rolled, dignity unraveling thread by thread. The noblewoman who still scrubbed blood from his armor. Who kept his books and raised his bastard nephew. Who was expected to smile when he returned late, stinking of drink and war.

Simon barely spoke—unless it was to bark an order, or mutter thanks through gritted teeth. The only time his voice softened was when he needed you to serve him: in court, in chambers, in bed.

And you obeyed. Like a good wife. A good duchess.

Until one day, the shame turned to salt in your mouth.

When he dropped his boots at your feet without looking at you. When you poured his wine and watched him laugh with his men, never once thinking to ask you how your day was. When he dared to touch you in bed like you were a body he owned, a vessel, a duty.

Your love had died quietly, a candle snuffed out by indifference.

And one night, under a moon shrouded in mist, you packed nothing but what you could carry. Left a letter sealed with your ring. Walked past the guards who thought you were just one more servant finishing her chores.

The night air bit your cheeks as you crossed the threshold, barefoot and breathless.

No more.

No more bruised hands scrubbing floors you were meant to rule over.

No more gentle smiles for a man who never once said he loved you.

No more breaking your back for a crown that sat too heavy.

You ran into the dark, cloak whipping behind you, heart pounding.

The Duke of Blackmere would wake to an empty bed.

And for once—he could clean up the mess.

The forest swallowed the sound of your breath.

You ran.

The silk of your nightgown, once white, now clung to your legs—mud-slick and torn where the brambles snatched at it like claws. Twigs tangled in your hair, cruel fingers yanking your braids loose, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not even when the rocks bit into the soles of your feet, slicing skin and drawing warm blood that trailed behind you like a second veil.

The moon lit your path in shards—silver light piercing through the canopy, just enough to guide you forward, forward, forward.

Every step burned. Your lungs were raw. Your hands scraped against bark and stone as you stumbled, catching yourself, scrambling on all fours for a moment before rising again like a hunted animal.

Behind you, the castle stood still. Cold. Watching.

But the trees didn’t care who you were. The birds didn’t call you “Duchess.” Out here, you were no one. A woman with nothing but the fire in her chest and the echo of run, run, run in your ears.

Your gown snagged again. You hissed, yanking it free. The fabric gave with a rip, exposing your thigh to the night air. You didn’t care. You pushed on.

Until finally—lights.

Golden, flickering, swaying in the distance. Torches. Lanterns. Smoke curling from chimneys.

A village.

You stumbled over the threshold, barefoot and breathless, tears hot on your cheeks as you collapsed at the edge of a cobbled road. The world tilted. Voices called out, distant and muddled.

But you were safe.

For the first time in years—

You were free.

The first snowfall came early that year.

It blanketed the village in quiet, hush-white peace, and you watched it from the bakery window as the oven hissed softly behind you. The scent of yeast and cinnamon filled the small shop. Your hands, dusted in flour, shaped dough on muscle memory. You didn’t think much about the work anymore—it came easily now, like breath.

Months had passed since the night you’d run barefoot through the woods. No one asked why. No one pried. There was a sort of understanding here, a sacred silence shared between strangers who knew what it meant to begin again.

You were simply Miss, or darlin’, or love when Mrs. Price, the innkeeper’s wife, needed help minding her little ones and pressed hot tea into your hands. You cleaned the rooms at the inn, soothed fussy children to sleep, worked the early hours at the bakery in exchange for a roof and warm meals.

You slept on a straw-stuffed mattress beneath the rafters. It wasn’t a duchess’s bed. It didn’t need to be.

Each day blurred gently into the next. Until he became part of the rhythm.

Kyle Garrick, the farmer from just outside the village. Came into town twice a week with baskets of eggs and jugs of milk, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, hay in his curls, a dusting of dirt on his boots. He always called you Miss, voice warm as cider. Said it like a nickname, like a secret.

“G’mornin’, Miss,” he’d greet you with a little grin, arms full of crates, eyes kind. “Don’t suppose you’d let me carry those sacks for you?”

And you’d protest—always half-heartedly—as he hoisted the flour bags from the cart like they were weightless.

“I can manage,” you’d say.

“I know,” he’d reply, “but where’s the fun in that?”

He never asked where you came from. Not once. Just like the rest of them.

But sometimes you caught him looking at you—when your sleeves were rolled up and your face flushed from the oven’s heat, when you wiped sweat from your brow with the back of your wrist. Not lustfully. Just curious. Gentle. Like he was memorizing your edges.

You shared quiet moments. Small things.

He gave you the first apple from his tree that autumn. You saved the seeds.

One night, during a thunderstorm, he brought extra candles to the inn. Said he figured you hated the dark.

You did.

You hadn’t told him that.

And still—you stayed silent. You didn’t speak of the Duke. Of the silk gowns. Of the cold halls of your marriage. It belonged to another life. A different girl.

You didn’t know what this was. What it might become.

But Kyle’s hands were strong. His heart was kind. And maybe—just maybe—you were finally learning what it meant to be held, not possessed.

Kyle asked the first time in early spring.

“Got a new foal on the way,” he’d said, leaning his weight casually against the bakery doorframe, arms crossed, smiling just a little. “Thought you might want to see the farm sometime.”

You offered a polite smile, shook your head. “That’s kind, but I’ve got work.”

He didn’t push.

The second time, he tried again.

“Built a new coop for the hens. Clean lines, real proud of it. You could come see?”

You dusted flour off your apron, gave a soft laugh. “Sounds lovely, but I really can’t.”

He gave a little shrug. “Maybe another time, Miss.”

There were more offers—gentle ones. Shared like wildflowers laid at your feet. He never asked why you always said no.

Until one day, when the sun was soft and golden through the clouds and you were restocking shelves, Kyle stepped into the bakery looking just a touch more urgent than usual.

“She’s close,” he said without a greeting. “The goat. Her first birth. Thought of you right away—thought maybe you'd want to be there.”

You blinked, confused. “Why me?”

“Dunno,” he said with a shrug. “You just… seemed the type who might want to see something come into the world. Something good.”

And something in you—some fragile, buried thing—stirred.

So you nodded.

The walk to his farm was quiet, just the two of you on the narrow path between wild grass and scattered yellow blossoms. Your skirts brushed the earth, your boots muddied at the edges, but Kyle didn’t seem to mind. He pointed out things as you went—that tree’s been leaning since I was a lad, foxes sometimes nest there, there’s a hawk that lives near the well.

The farmhouse was simple. Warm. The porch sagged a little, and the door creaked when he opened it. The air smelled like hay and woodsmoke and something sweet—jams, maybe.

He didn’t ask you inside. Just took you to the barn.

The goat was already panting by the time you arrived, her sides heaving.

Kyle knelt beside her and showed you how to stroke her neck. How to speak soft. Gentle.

And when the kid finally arrived, slick and squirming and alive, you cried without realizing.

Kyle didn’t speak. Just handed you a clean cloth, his fingers brushing yours.

Later, when the goat and her baby were settled, and the sun had begun to set in streaks of amber and rose, he led you back toward the farmhouse porch.

“I can walk back alone,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“You could,” he said, “but I’d rather walk you.”

And so he did.

That night, you lay awake in your narrow bed, remembering the way his hands moved—sure, patient, reverent. Remembering how he looked at you like you were real and here and not something to be claimed.

You still hadn’t told him who you were.

But maybe… he already knew there was something broken about you. Or maybe it didn’t matter.

Not anymore.

The sky was still tinted with the faint blue of pre-dawn when he arrived.

He always came early on Wednesdays—before the others, before the village stirred awake. Just him and the birdsong and the steam from the fresh loaves you made for him.

The door creaked as he entered. You didn’t look up at first, hands deep in the dough, sleeves rolled to your elbows. Your hair was braided back, wisps escaping to stick to your warm skin. The oven behind her flickered with a quiet fire.

“Morning, Miss,” Kyle said, voice soft, respectful, warm.

“You’re early,” you replied, not unkindly, still kneading.

“I like it here when it’s quiet,” he said, stepping closer but not crowding. “You working on mine?”

You nodded toward a proofing tray. “It’s rising now.”

He sat on the edge of the counter, just watching you for a while. Your hands moved like you were born to it—strong, steady, sure. You’d come to the village like a shadow, but now you glowed in the firelight. Familiar. Trusted. His, in some unspoken way neither of you had dared name.

He watched you in silence until, after a moment, he asked, “You ever been in love before, Miss?”

You paused, only for a second, then dusted your hands and went back to shaping the loaf.

“...Thought I was.”

There was no bitterness in your voice. No romance either. Just something hollowed out and carefully set down.

Kyle didn’t ask more. Didn’t need to.

He leaned back a bit, looking at you with something deeper than curiosity.

“Someone didn’t treat you right,” he said softly, not a question, not even a guess. Just a truth.

You looked up then. Just briefly. Your eyes, still tired from dreams you never spoke aloud, met his.

“No,” you whispered, “he treated me exactly how the world told him he could.”

Kyle blinked, slow. Then nodded. “World’s wrong about a lot of things.”

The air stretched between you like warm honey. The oven crackled. The dough rose. You turned your gaze back to it.

“I think I like making bread,” you said after a long silence. “It doesn’t ask anything of me. Just needs time. Patience. A steady hand.”

“I reckon you deserve the same,” he murmured.

You smiled, small and grateful.

When the loaf finished, you handed it to him wrapped in a linen cloth. His fingers brushed yours again. He didn’t linger, but he didn’t leave right away either.

“I’ll be by tomorrow,” he said. “Bring you something sweet. If you’d like.”

You didn’t nod. Didn’t answer.

But when he stepped outside, he saw your through the window, smiling to yourself with the faintest tilt of your lips.

And that was enough.

The moment the news reached you, you dropped a basket of rolls.

It passed from mouth to mouth like wildfire—a Duke, arriving tomorrow. One from the North. One with a name no one dared say but all seemed to know.

Your breath had hitched. Your hands had trembled. But you didn’t cry. You never did anymore.

By the time the sun began to dip low, painting the sky with shades of warning red, You were walking back from the bakery with your arms full of unsold loaves for the inn.

The air smelled like smoke and earth. Your stomach twisted.

“Miss?”

Kyle’s voice, always warm, always gentle, cut through the thick fog of your thoughts.

You hadn’t even heard him approach. But there he was—boots dusty, sleeves rolled, hands calloused and kind. He walked in step with you without asking.

His hand pressed lightly to the small of your back, and you startled just a little at the warmth of it. Not in fear. Just in surprise. You’d grown so used to holding yourself.

“You alright?” he asked, like he didn’t already see how tense you shoulders were.

You didn’t answer.

“Would you…” he started again, voice lower now, less sure. “Would you like to come by the farm again? Think the goats miss you.”

The question was simple. But it meant everything. A life raft offered in a storm.

You answered before you had time to think. “Yes.”

And it was the first thing that felt like a choice all day.

Kyle nodded once, like he’d expected you to say no, and the quiet joy in his eyes when you didn’t made you feel something you hadn’t let yourself feel in months.

Safe.

Not free yet. But close.

The loaves were still warm when you handed them off at the inn, your hands lingering on the cloth-covered basket like you might take it back and run. But you didn’t. You gave a soft nod to Mrs. and Mr. Price, mumbled something about being out late, and slipped through the door without another word.

Kyle waited just beyond the threshold, leaning on the fence post, eyes watching the fading sky.

Neither of you talked as you made the walk toward the farm. But it wasn’t the kind of silence you’d known before—the cold, stiff kind that always left you feeling like you’d said something wrong just by existing. No, this one was… easy. Like the earth didn’t expect anything from you but your steps on the road.

The goats came into view as the sun dipped further, casting gold over the hills. One of the younger ones bleated at you and stumbled toward the fence, nosing your palm with enthusiasm.

You laughed.

Not a pretty, courtly giggle. A real laugh. One that cracked something open in your chest, something you’d been pressing down so hard it left bruises.

You blinked fast, swallowing around the sudden lump in your throat.

Kyle didn’t say a word. Just crouched near one of the fence posts, adjusting a bit of loose rope like he didn’t notice the way your eyes shined.

But when you looked at him, he was already looking back. He smiled, soft and crooked.

“Stay for supper?” he asked. “I’ve been meanin’ to try that stew recipe you told Mr. Mactavish about. We can make it together.”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to. But because it had been so long since anyone had asked you anything that didn’t come with a price.

And gods, it was hard to say no to eyes like that—gentle and open and not expecting anything more than what you’d give.

So you didn’t.

You nodded once, quiet, and when he smiled again, your heart ached in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

It was the first time in months you didn’t feel like running.

The kitchen smelled like thyme and onions, rich and warm as the stew bubbled low in the pot. Your sleeves were rolled, flour on your cheek from shaping the bread you’d offered to bake as a side, and Kyle stood beside you, peeling potatoes far slower than necessary just so he could sneak glances.

You caught him once and nudged him with your elbow. “You’re terrible at that,” you teased, grinning.

He shrugged, helpless and boyish. “Never had to impress anyone with my peeling skills b'fore.”

That made you laugh—really laugh—and you leaned over the cutting board, hiding your smile behind your wrist.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he murmured, voice a little lower than before.

She glanced up.

He was closer than you'd thought. Still holding a half-peeled potato, but now his other hand was on your waist, firm and warm. Your breath caught. You could smell the firewood smoke on his shirt, see the soft scruff on his jaw, and then—

Your foreheads touched.

Like it was nothing. Like it was everything.

Your eyes fluttered shut just as his did, and for a moment, there was only the sound of the stew simmering and the quiet beat of two hearts, nearly in sync.

Then he kissed you.

Soft, patient, and certain.

And you kissed him back, your hands curling into the front of his shirt, grounding yourself in something that felt impossibly real.

A warmth bloomed in your chest, equal parts comfort and fear. Because the moment didn’t feel borrowed.

It felt like home.

You pulled back just a little, your heart racing as you caught your breath. A soft laugh escaped your lips, genuine and a little breathless. “Didn’t know it could... feel like that.”

Kyle’s gaze softened, like he was savoring the moment just as much as you were. He leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek as he spoke, his voice low but certain. “It does when it’s right, Miss.”

Your chest tightened at his words. For the first time in what felt like forever, something felt right. You had spent so long running, hiding, trying to outrun your past. But here, in this small kitchen with the scent of cooking filling the air and Kyle’s gentle presence in front of you, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you could stay for a while.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb lingering against your skin. “You’re not alone here,” he murmured, almost as if he was reading your mind. “You don’t have to be.”

Your heart fluttered at that, but the reality of your past tugged at you like a chain, invisible but heavy. You forced a smile, trying to push the unease away, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I’m not... running anymore, Kyle.”

He didn’t need you to explain further. His smile softened, understanding more than you expected. “I know.” His hand slid from your waist to your hand, intertwining your fingers. “And you don’t have to. Not from me.”

For a long moment, you just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the kitchen. You could hear the faint rustling of the animals outside, the gentle breeze making its way through the open window, but for once, it all felt like it was in its place.

The weight of the past hadn’t vanished, but it felt lighter here, in this little corner of the world where Kyle’s touch made everything seem a little more possible.

He stepped back slowly, never breaking your connection, his hand still gently clasping yours. “Supper’s almost ready,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that made your stomach flutter.

“Right,” you replied, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You squeezed his hand, the action grounding you in the present, in the here and now.

“I’ll be right there,” you said, but Kyle didn’t move just yet. Instead, he leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a promise in that gentle touch.

As he stepped away, you exhaled slowly, fingers still tingling from his touch. Tonight felt different. For the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe you could belong somewhere again.

And maybe, just maybe, you could let yourself believe in that feeling.

You sat across from each other at the small wooden table, the flickering light from the lantern casting soft shadows around you both. The air was warm with the scent of roasted vegetables and the rich, earthy aroma of the bread you’d helped bake earlier. The goats had been fed, the kitchen cleared, and the simple supper you had prepared together was now in front of you.

Kyle took a bite, his eyes lighting up as he chewed. He grinned at you, a playful glint in his eye. “This... this is delicious.” He set his fork down, still smiling. “Thank you for making it with me.”

You shook your head, feeling a slight heat creep up your neck. “You did most of it,” you protested, but there was a warmth in your voice. “I just helped with the bread and the herbs.”

He leaned back slightly, considering you for a moment before his lips curled into a grin. “True, but your bits,” he paused, picking up a piece of the roasted vegetable, “are the best.”

Your cheeks burned at the compliment, but you couldn’t help the way your lips quirked up into a smile. “Flattery won’t get you more food,” you teased lightly, but there was a softness to your tone, an ease you hadn’t expected to feel so quickly.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the exchange. “I think I’ve already got what I wanted,” he said, his eyes locking with yours for a brief, quiet moment. “You.”

The words hung in the air for a second, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was simple. Honest. The kind of honesty you didn’t know if you were ready for, but something about him made it easier to hear. To believe.

You stirred your food, not quite looking up at him, feeling a knot in your chest tighten slightly. But it wasn’t a bad feeling—it was just... unfamiliar. “Well, I’m glad you think so highly of my cooking,” you said, trying to keep the mood light, though your heart was beating a little faster now.

Kyle took another bite, but his eyes never left you. “I’m serious,” he said softly, his voice steady and warm. “You’re different, Miss. More than you know. You’ve got a way of making everything feel... right.”

Your heart fluttered at that, and you swallowed before meeting his gaze. “And what’s that?” you asked, though you had an inkling of the answer.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers loosely wrapped around his cup of water. “You make the world a little less heavy, just by being in it.”

Your chest tightened at his words. It was so simple, and yet it felt like something you hadn’t allowed yourself to believe in for so long. Maybe you did deserve to have something light in your life again.

You didn’t say anything at first, just took a slow breath and looked back down at your plate. There was a tenderness between you now, unspoken but clear.

The sound of the wind rustling outside was the only interruption as you both finished your meals. There was no rush, no tension. Just the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

“Thank you, Kyle,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper, but it held more weight than you expected. “For all of this. For tonight.”

He smiled again, a soft, contented smile, before leaning back in his chair, settling in. “The pleasure’s all mine, Miss.”

And for once, you let yourself believe it.

The evening had unfolded into a quiet, comfortable rhythm, the soft glow of the lanterns flickering in the corners of the room. The meal had been simple, yet satisfying, and the air between you was easy, filled with gentle laughter and light conversation. But now, as the last of the dishes were cleared away, the weight of what was to come settled in.

You glanced toward the door, the thought of returning to the inn pulling at you. The routine you’d grown so accustomed to, the security of blending in, of being unnoticed. But tonight felt different. Kyle’s presence had been grounding, steady, and his quiet sincerity had created a warmth in your chest that you weren’t sure you wanted to leave behind.

Kyle leaned back against the chair, his hand resting on the table, his gaze soft but determined. “You don’t have to go, y’know.”

You hesitated, caught between the life you had built here and the life you had once run from. Your heart thudded in your chest at the vulnerability in his words, the earnestness in his eyes.

“Kyle…” you started, her voice trailing off. The question you had been avoiding, the fear that gripped you tightly, threatened to spill out. What if I stay?

“I mean it,” Kyle continued, his voice steady but laced with an edge of hope. “Stay with me. You don’t have to go back to the inn. You don’t have to keep running from... wha'ever you’re running from. You can stay here, with me. You’re already part of this place.”

You swallowed, your breath catching in your throat. The pull of his words, the sincerity in them, had your heart racing faster than you expected. It wasn’t just about staying for the night or sharing another meal together. It was about something deeper, something more permanent. A future you hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine.

“I—” Your voice faltered. You were afraid of what this could mean. Afraid of what it might feel like to let yourself fully trust someone again. But there was a part of you, buried beneath the walls you’d built, that longed for this. For him.

Kyle’s hand moved across the table, palm up, waiting for your, his expression softening as he watched you struggle.

“You don’t have to answer right away,” he said quietly, his fingers grazing over the table’s edge as if offering you a lifeline, a choice. “But I want you here, Miss. I want you here with me. Wha'ever you need, whenever you’re ready.”

The words hung between you, heavy with possibility. Your eyes flickered from his hand to his face, the conflict clear in your gaze. But then, something shifted inside you. Something told you it was okay to let go, to stop fighting it.

You stood slowly, your legs slightly unsteady from the weight of the moment, and stepped closer to him. Without another word, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his touch spreading through you.

His fingers closed gently around yours, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Stay with me,” he repeated, a promise in his voice this time.

And for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, staying could be the right choice.

The night was quiet, save for the steady sound of your breaths mingling in the dim light. The sheets, tangled between you, were warm and comforting. In contrast to the nights you had once known, nights that had been harsh and demanding, this one felt like a revelation. Kyle was slow, patient, guiding you with a tenderness you hadn’t known you needed, but now couldn’t seem to live without.

His movements were deliberate, each touch gentle, coaxing you through every sensation. It wasn’t hurried or desperate—there was no frantic urgency. He savored you, as if every inch of you deserved time and care. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, the line of your jaw, memorizing the soft tremor of your skin. His lips brushed against your neck, soft whispers of praise against your skin, each word making you feel seen, wanted.

You let out a sharp breath when he finally met your lips again, the kiss slow and tender, his body shifting against yours, each movement carefully planned. He was slow in all the right ways, building you up before bringing you down, making you forget everything but him. It was a stark contrast to everything you had once known—his hands were not harsh, they were reverent. His mouth was not demanding, it was kind.

Your body responded, arching beneath him, his name slipping from your lips with a mixture of awe and longing. The passion built slowly, layer after layer, until it was a pressure you couldn’t contain. Your hands found his shoulders, his back, needing to ground yourself, to feel every inch of him.

His forehead came to rest against yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you heard words you never expected to hear again.

“I love you,” Kyle whispered, his voice rough but filled with sincerity.

Your heart stilled in her chest, your breath catching in your throat. Time seemed to slow. You closed your eyes, running your hands up his chest, needing to touch him, needing to make sure he was real, that this was real. You cupped his face, bringing him closer, your gaze locking with his.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice soft but unwavering. The words felt like a promise, like something that could anchor you in this moment, in this life that you’d never imagined for yourself but somehow found.

Kyle’s smile was gentle, the way he looked at you made you feel seen, cherished. And in that moment, with him above you, with his warmth surrounding you, you knew you had found something worth staying for. Something real. Something true.

It wasn’t just love. It was everything you had been searching for without realizing it—softness, care, and a connection you had once thought was beyond your reach.

The days had passed quietly, a rhythm settling between you and Kyle. The work, the shared meals, the laughter, it all became part of your new life, one you were growing more attached to every day. The tension from the arrival of the Duke had faded into the background, though it never fully left your mind. You had avoided the village center as much as possible, staying in the comfort of Kyle’s farm, but now, on the third night, as the Duke was about to leave, you could feel it all creeping back.

You sat at the small wooden table, picking at the remnants of your supper. Kyle was across from you, his usual easy smile a bit more subdued tonight. He didn’t press you to talk about it, not really, but he had known something was up.

"I was his wife once," you said quietly, almost too quietly. The words felt heavy, like they had been waiting to be spoken, but you hadn't known when to say them.

Kyle didn’t flinch, didn’t look surprised. Instead, he nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair, his gaze soft but steady. "I know, dove," he replied simply. His voice was calm, like it wasn’t the first time he had processed this.

"You knew?" you asked, voice rising in surprise. You didn’t know how she expected him to react—anger, judgment, maybe pity. But Kyle was looking at your like he had known all along, like it wasn’t a revelation, just a fact.

"Whole village knew," Kyle said, his eyes never leaving yours. His tone was matter-of-fact, and it made you realize something you hadn't thought about—your past, your marriage to Simon, hadn't been a secret to anyone. It was common knowledge, and yet, the people in this village had let you be. They hadn’t pried, they hadn’t pushed you to speak of it. They had accepted you without question, without curiosity.

"Oh," you whispered, a wave of surprise and relief flooding through you. It was as if the weight of the past had lifted slightly, knowing that your secrets had never been the subject of gossip, never turned into something for the village to talk about.

Kyle smiled softly, almost as if he had been waiting for your to realize that. "Didn’t mention it, wasn’t our business," he added, his voice warm but firm, like he was assuring you it wasn’t something that needed to be discussed. The Duke was gone now, and whatever had happened between you, whoever you had once been to him, didn’t matter anymore. Not here, not with Kyle.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, as if exhaling a burden you hadn’t known you were still carrying. For all the guilt and confusion you had felt about your past, here, in this quiet farm with Kyle, it didn’t have to be a part of you anymore. You could simply be yourself. You could be the woman you were now—someone who had found a life you never expected to have, but one you were beginning to truly love.

Kyle stood up then, moving around the table to where you sat. He gently cupped your face in his hands, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. "You’re safe here, dove," he said, his voice so full of warmth and care that it made your heart ache. "With me. Always."

The words, simple as they were, meant everything. And you realized, with a quiet certainty, that for the first time in years, you were free. Free from the weight of your past, free from the expectations placed on you, and free to live a life that was entirely your own.

With him.

Months passed, each day blending into the next with a quiet rhythm that had begun to feel like home. The days were simple but comforting—working at the bakery in the morning, kneading dough, shaping loaves, the warm scent of freshly baked bread filling the air. You had always found solace in routine, the predictability of it all, and it gave you a sense of purpose you hadn’t had in years. The steady pace of your work kept you grounded, kept your mind from wandering back to the life you had run from, to the Duke who had once claimed you as his own.

Kyle never pushed you to leave the bakery, even though he offered time and again. He insisted that you could stay home on the farm, help with the chores, and be with him all day. But you knew he understood. He never pried, never made you feel guilty for the hours you spent at the bakery. He simply smiled and kissed your forehead every morning before you left for work and again every evening when you came home.

The small village had become your sanctuary, the faces of the townspeople familiar and kind. The bakery was a place where you felt useful, where the simple act of making bread for others brought you peace. You didn’t feel the need for anything more—at least, not for now.

The mornings with Kyle were often slow and peaceful. He’d wake up early to tend to the animals, always making sure to stop by the bakery to bring you fresh milk or eggs from the farm. He would help with unloading the flour or carrying the heavy sacks, always with that quiet smile of his. You could feel the ease between you, the unspoken bond that had grown stronger over the months.

And in the evenings, after the long days of work, you would sit together at the small table in the farmhouse, a candle flickering between you. And you would talk about the small things—how the animals were doing, the weather, and what you had for dinner—but it was enough. You didn’t need grand gestures or endless promises. Just the warmth of his presence beside you was all you ever needed.

"Why don’t you stay home today?" Kyle would ask sometimes, a playful gleam in his eye. "You could help me with the garden. Or maybe just sit and rest."

You would smile, running a hand through your hair. "I like the routine, Ky," you’d say softly. "I like being there."

He’d never push further. Instead, he’d simply nod, understanding that you needed this. It was the one thing from your old life that you had held on to—the routine, the simple sense of purpose that came with it.

But there were moments, fleeting ones, when Kyle would catch you gazing out at the farm, lost in thought. He’d gently pull you back into the present, reminding you with a soft touch or a quiet word that there was no need to look back anymore. He had given you a new life—one that was free from the pain of your past—and all you had to do was embrace it.

And you were starting to. Slowly, but surely, the shadow of the Duke faded more each day. The nights were yours to cherish, spent in Kyle’s arms, where you felt safe, where you felt loved. It wasn’t a life of grand adventures, but it was yours, and it was enough.

The evening air was thick with the smell of hay and the soft rustling of the barn. The loft was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the setting sun slipping through cracks in the wood. You and Kyle had just made love, your bodies tangled in the soft bedding of straw. His laughter mixed with yours as you tugged at the strands of hay that had caught in your hair. The warmth of the moment lingered, a perfect silence settling between the two of you, broken only by the gentle rhythm of your breathing.

Kyle leaned back against the hay, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes, always soft and full of affection, met yours, but there was something different tonight—a quiet intensity, like he was holding something in. You could feel the weight of it in the air, the anticipation, but you didn’t know what to expect.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn velvet pouch. Your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t say anything. He opened it with his fingers, and there, nestled in the fabric, was a simple, delicate ring. His mother’s ring.

He took your hand gently in his, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin as he held it up to the fading light. "I know we don’t need any of this," he said softly, his voice low and sincere. "But I want you to know that I want you with me, always. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine." He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "Will you marry me?"

You didn’t answer with words. You didn’t need to. Your heart raced, and in that moment, all the pain of the past, all the fear of what came next, melted away. The weight of the world felt light, the uncertainty replaced with a profound sense of belonging. With a breathless smile, you slid your legs over his, straddling him as you bent down to kiss him, slow and lingering. His hands, warm and firm, gripped your waist as you pressed your body against his.

The ring was slipping onto your finger, but it wasn’t the ring that mattered. It was the way he held you, the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his, both of you laughing softly.

He kissed you again, and you kissed him back, your heart beating fast, and before either of you could say anything more, you did it all over again. This time, with a different kind of intensity, a deeper connection, as if everything that had led you to this moment had been leading you here.

His mother’s ring gleamed in the dim light, but it was Kyle’s love that sparkled brightest.

You giggled as Kyle carefully cradled you in his arms, bridal-style, his strong arms holding you close. The night air was cool against your skin, but the warmth of his embrace kept you more than comfortable. The crunch of the gravel beneath his boots mixed with your laughter as you playfully scratched at the itching hay that clung to your skin, your dress still speckled with the remnants of the barn loft.

Kyle chuckled softly, his voice low and affectionate as he glanced down at you. “You alright there, Missus?” he teased, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Got enough hay in your hair for the both of us?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. “I swear, Ky, I’m gonna be itchy for days,” you muttered, scratching again at the hay that clung to your arms.

His laugh echoed around you, warm and genuine, as he shifted you higher in his arms, making sure you were secure. “Well, you’ll just have to deal with it, Mrs. Garrick,” he teased again, his lips brushing over your forehead. “That’s what you get for marrying a farm boy.”

You pressed your face into his chest, trying to hide the grin threatening to overtake you. “Mrs. Garrick…” you repeated softly, testing the sound of it, the words feeling both foreign and perfectly right all at once.

He chuckled again, his breath warm against your hair. “Yup, that's you now. Mrs. Garrick. My missus.” His voice softened, turning serious for a moment, though there was still that playful glint in his eyes. “And you always will be, you know?”

Your heart swelled, the quiet reassurance in his words enough to make the moment feel even more perfect. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him a little tighter. “I don’t think I could be happier, Mr. Garrick,” you whispered, finally letting go of the itchiness and just letting yourself be in this moment with him.

He smiled down at you, and the warmth in his eyes was enough to banish any remaining doubts or fears you had. With him, everything felt right. Everything had always felt like it was leading here.

As you neared the house, he gave you one last squeeze, pressing his lips against the top of your head. “And you’re stuck with me now, Mrs. Garrick. Forever.”

The sun was setting low behind the rolling hills, casting a golden hue over the village. The chapel was small, but it felt like the whole world was gathered within its walls. The familiar faces of villagers, the baker, the farmer, the innkeepers, all gathered together to celebrate a love that had blossomed unexpectedly. You felt the weight of their smiles and the warmth of their well-wishes.

Standing next to Kyle, you could feel the fluttering in your chest, the way your heart seemed to race every time you caught sight of his handsome face, that familiar crooked smile. The same smile that had made you fall for him, over and over again, even on days when life was hard. He looked at you like you were the only one in the world, the way he always had since that first time you handed him bread. Maybe he did.

The Bishop's words were a blur in the background, a soft murmur of prayers, but all you could focus on was Kyle’s hand in yours, warm and strong. You couldn’t stop the heat creeping across your cheeks as he spoke his vows—so sickly sweet, so tender. The words tumbled from his lips with such sincerity, his voice thick with emotion.

“I vow to stand beside you, in every storm and every quiet night. I’ll keep you safe, hold you close, and never let you go. You’ve changed my world, my heart. You’ve made me a better man, and I swear, on this day and every day after, I’ll love you more than you could ever know.”

Your heart swelled in your chest, the words sinking deep into your bones, making your breath catch. This wasn’t like the vows you once heard from your former life—no, this was different. This was real.

You squeezed his hand tighter, your eyes watering as you tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fall. How had you ever thought you'd be content without this? Without him?

The Bishop turned to you, a gentle smile on his face. “And you, my dear, what are your vows?”

For a moment, everything felt impossibly still. You looked up into Kyle’s eyes, the love and trust shining back at you, and for the first time, you didn’t feel like the girl who had run away. You didn’t feel like the broken wife.

You stood taller now, the past a shadow behind you. With a soft smile, you spoke, your voice steady, clear. “I vow to cherish you, Kyle Garrick, as you have cherished me. I’ll walk beside you in the sunshine and the rain. I’ll love you with every part of me, for all the days of my life. You are home to me.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Kyle’s hand tightened around yours, and a small tear fell from his eye, the corner of his lip tugging upwards.

The Bishop nodded, satisfied with the vows exchanged, and the ceremony continued with all the joy and love that filled the air.

But you hardly heard a word after that. All that mattered was Kyle, his soft hand in yours, his eyes full of love, and the future that stretched ahead of you both—together, forever.

"You may now kiss your bride."

As the Bishop’s words echoed through the small chapel, the world seemed to pause for a heartbeat. Kyle’s hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek as he leaned in. His eyes locked onto yours for a brief, tender moment, a silent promise passing between you both.

Then, without a word, he kissed you.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was everything. The passion of every moment you’d shared, the struggles, the laughter, the quiet comfort of everyday life—it all poured into that single kiss. His lips were soft at first, exploring, tentative. But the moment you kissed him back, something inside him shifted, and so did you. His grip on you tightened, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his lips hot against yours, claiming you in a way that was all his own.

There was no hesitation, no fear, no doubt—just the two of you, together, right here, in this moment.

The chapel seemed to disappear, the cheering from the villagers fading into the background as Kyle kissed you like he was trying to savor every second. His hand slid into your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss, and you felt yourself melt into him, everything you’d been running from, everything you’d been hiding, falling away.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested gently against yours, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic energy you both shared. His lips were parted in a soft smile, his eyes gleaming with the same love he had sworn to you just moments ago.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, his words vibrating through you like the hum of a quiet promise.

You smiled, still lost in the aftermath of that kiss. “I love you too, Kyle.”

The room erupted into applause, but it felt like nothing compared to the warmth of his lips still lingering on yours. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel like the girl who ran away, or the girl with a past. You were just his, and he was yours.

And as the cheers of the village surrounded you, you knew this was the beginning of a life that would be better than anything you could’ve ever imagined.

Kyle’s grin was playful, his eyes twinkling with that familiar, mischievous glint. He walked with you into the house, closing the door behind you both with a soft click. His hands were already reaching for the delicate fabric of your wedding dress, eager to strip it away, but there was something more to the moment than just the anticipation of what was to come. The joy in his eyes, the way he couldn’t stop smiling as he helped you out of the gown, made you feel like the luckiest woman alive. "Gonna give you a wedding night to remember, love."

You laughed softly, your cheeks flushing at the implications of his words. “I like the love we always make,” you teased, your voice low, a little breathless from the intimacy of the moment.

Kyle’s laugh was low and throaty as he kissed your forehead, his hands gently guiding you toward the bedroom. “Been holding out on you, dove,” he said, his tone teasing. “Had to get a ring on your finger before I could show you what I can do with my mouth.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, your breath catching in your throat. You weren’t quite sure what he meant, but the thought of him using his mouth on you had your pulse quickening. You flushed, a shiver of anticipation running through you. “Your mouth?” you repeated, the word leaving your lips more breathlessly than you intended.

“Mhm,” Kyle murmured, his voice low and deep, laced with promise. He took his time, making sure the last few pieces of the dress were carefully removed, letting you step out of it and into the comfort of his arms. “I’ve got plenty of ways to make you remember tonight, Mrs. Garrick.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face as you let him pull you closer, your body pressing into his. His lips trailed down your neck, soft at first, then growing more insistent, sending shivers across your skin.

“I want to make you feel everything,” Kyle whispered, his breath hot against your skin. His hands, now bare, moved over your body, as if memorizing every curve, every inch of you. “And tonight, I’m going to show you all the ways I can.”

You felt your pulse racing, the familiar warmth of his touch igniting something deep inside of you. Tonight would be unlike any other night, and you were more than ready to see just what he had in store for you.

Kyle was a man of many talents, but nothing prepared you for the way he made you feel that night. Every touch, every movement, felt like a carefully orchestrated symphony of passion. He knew exactly where to press, how to move, and when to ease off, leaving you breathless, wanting more. His skill was unmatched, and every time you thought you might finally catch your breath, he’d take you to new heights again.

You must have died and come back five times that night, lost in waves of sensation that you never thought were possible. It wasn’t just the physical connection—though that was undoubtedly divine—it was the intensity of it all, the way his gaze never left yours, the way he seemed to be reading your body like a book, every page turning faster than the last.

And yet, despite all of that, he hadn’t even kissed you yet.

You were so caught up in the feeling of him that the lack of a kiss didn’t even register at first. But then, as his hands gently cupped your face, as he positioned himself just above you, you felt the shift—the tenderness, the deep connection that only he could give. His lips hovered over yours, barely grazing them before finally pressing firmly against you. The kiss was slow, deliberate, full of promise.

“I’m not finished with you yet,” he whispered, his lips brushing over yours before he kissed you again, this time with more urgency, more heat.

And even as you surrendered to his touch once more, you realized that every moment with him had only deepened your feelings. You weren’t just being ravished; you were being adored, in a way that no one had ever done before. It was overwhelming, but in the best way. This wasn’t just about physical connection anymore. This was about being seen, about trust, about love.

And Kyle? He was more than worth it.

UGH MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN , POOKIE @goatgoesmbe

That’s my Man ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Gaz with piercings please!! 😩💎✨

John just had to get a taste of his dessert (≧◡≦) 

18+ minors do not interact!

so you know that stupid tradition of the groom sticking his head under the bride's dress at the reception to pull the garter off? yeah that but every single one of the 141 would kiss your pussy while doing it.

johnny's full on making out with it over your underwear, leaving it sticking to you from a mixture of his spit and your arousal.

simon's got it pulled to the side so he can plant one directly on it and you can hear the deep rumble in his chest when you gasp in surprise.

kyle would place a kiss right over where your clit is under your underwear before running his tongue up the length of it.

and john would stuff his fingers in you while he gives your clit a harsh suck before letting go with an audible pop, comes out from under there with the garter in his teeth and licking his fingers.

\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/ stuck with me forever XD

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and I've been stalking your page for a while now and I'm really surprised no one requested that one old tik tok trends of S/Os grabbing thier partners feet from under the bed.

PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW THE COD MEN REACTION 😭😭😭😭😭

The way I cackled over this. I love a good prank, especially when there is nothing malicious or nasty behind it. Thank you so much for sending this in!! I had a freaking blast with this. Also, genuinely startled/surprised 141 is just a hilarious concept to me. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, hijinks & shenanigans, pranks, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

It’s unfair to do this to John, but he makes it so easy. He falls for every one of your pranks. Speedwalks right into them.

And this one is no exception.

You’ve smushed yourself underneath the bed. It’s possible you won’t be able to get out. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you’re about to scare John.

“I’m home,” he calls out.

You remain quiet. Distantly, you hear the front door shut, and John’s heavy footfalls.

“Dove. I’m home.”

Still, you remain silent.

John calls your name this time. You do not respond.

“Cabbage?”

This time, you almost snort. John doesn’t call you cabbage unless he’s being sincere.

John appears in the doorway, pausing just outside. He takes one step, and then another. He’s just out of reach, booted feet near but not close enough.

“Car’s out front.”

Another step.

You grin, and grab at his ankles.

“What in the bloody—”

John stumbles back, nearly trips, and then rights himself. You cackle, and John sighs. Wiggling closer to the edge of the bed, you bring your face into the light.

“Welcome home,” you grin.

John shakes his head. “I’m not helping you get out from under there.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You silently chuckle to yourself, rubbing your hands together like some comic book villain. Johnny is just off the game with Simon, walking around the house looking for you.

“Darling,” he calls out, that Scottish lilt making the pet name even sweeter.

You stay hidden, watching him pass the bedroom not once but twice.

Even from your hiding spot, you can hear him muttering to himself as he searches room to room.

His feet and ankles appear, pausing just inside the doorway before heading straight to the bathroom. He checks there, and then the closet.

As Johnny passes by the bed to leave, you take a swipe at his feet.

“Oi!” he shouts, spinning around.

You wait a beat. He takes a step. Pauses. When he attempts to leave again, you make another pass.

This time Johnny yells, rushing for the door, returning seconds later. Moving to his hands and knees, Johnny looks under the bed—but only at a safe distance.

“You,” he says, smirking. He starts crawling toward you.

“Johnny,” you warn, but it’s too late. He’s reaching under the bed, wrestling you out from under it, peppering you with sloppy kisses that leave smears of salvia behind.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is fresh up from a nap. He has no idea you’re currently hiding under the bed. But you’ve taken his phone, placed it on the bed as bait, making calls on it to herd him toward your hiding spot.

Simon appears, stopping directly beside the side of the bed. Slowly, you reach out, and then manically flail about, grabbing at his sock-covered feet.

You expect that your actions might surprise him. He might even make a sound, or even swear. What you didn’t expect is to hear your unshakably dreary husband let out a shriek like that of a startled old woman. Pulling your hand back, you cover your mouth, stifling a snort.

“Bloody hell!” he shouts, taking a few steps back.

He pauses a moment, and then gets down onto his knees before flattening himself across the floor.

“Come here,” says Simon, voice eerily calm.

Oh. Oh no.

“I’d rather not,” you reply, knowing that Simon is already brewing up a punishment.

“Come out, love.”

You scoot further away. “Your tone is too neutral, Simon.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“I’m calm.”

You’re nearly out the other end.

“I’ll chase you,” he smirks.

You make a run for it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m in here, Kyle,” you call out as you slide yourself beneath the bed.

You wiggle around until you’re hidden, waiting for him to follow your voice. You hear his footfalls before he appears.

“I thought we—” He comes to a stop just inside the door. “Babe?” A pause, and then he says your name. Then, softly, “where are you hiding?”

As he steps into the room, and heads for the bathroom, his feet pass by your hiding spot. This is your only opportunity before he figures out that you’re beneath the bed.

You reach out, just brushing your fingertips against him, then retreat.

“Fucking hell!” he shouts, stumbling backward.

You do it again, and this time he growls your name. Taking a step back, Kyle drops onto his stomach, gaze narrowed as it focuses on you.

“Really?” he asks, deadpan.

“I found it hilarious,” you reply.

Kyle sighs and shakes his head. “Move over.”

“What?”

Shoving himself underneath, Kyle drags himself across the floor until you’re shoulder to shoulder under the bed.

“Bloody filthy down here,” observes Kyle. “Needs a good dusting.” He winks. “Got a spider in your hair, love.”

“I regret this so much,” you whisper.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

My man so pretty (≧◡≦)(≧◡≦) ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

gaz study

I be they wife in heartbeat if they cause who gonna fat them up when they come home (✿ ♥‿♥)(✿ ♥‿♥)( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

(more of poly 141 x roommate reader bc i got enabled: surprising them when they return home)

The aroma of roasted garlic and thyme filled the apartment, and along with it your voice as you fluttered about the kitchen while music played from your phone. You placed plates of perfectly golden roast chicken, mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables on the dining table beside bowls of creamy mushroom soup and a fresh salad and freshly baked bread.

You would never regret that cooking course you picked up. Everything just looked so… perfect. And that was without mentioning the apple pie and chocolate cake you’d also made, set aside on cute little cake pedestals you’d recently bought.

You smoothed the fabric of your skirt, picking up your phone to check on the time; they’d arrive home any moment now and you couldn’t wait to see their reactions. You’d been planning this dinner since yesterday, when Kate Laswell had called to let you know your roommates would be home today after months of being away on a mission so you could prepare this surprise for them.

You’d promised to send her and her lovely wife a big, big portion just for helping you like that. You always get worried when they take this long, but Kate tried her best to keep you up to date about them whenever they had to be no-contact with you.

The sound of the front door unlocking made your pulse quicken, and you hurried to the entryway, a bright smile on your face. You’d made sure even the candles you and Gaz like to collect were lit up, bathing the apartment in a soft golden light.

“Surprise!” you called, spreading your arms as they stepped inside, grin wide and proud.

For a moment, they stood frozen, tired eyes sweeping over the sight of you and the glowing apartment and the lovely smell of a big, warm dinner. Price was the first to move, dropping his bag and crossing the room in several long strides. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a firm embrace, and you melted against him right away, breathing in the familiar scent of him- smoke, leather, and something uniquely John.

“Hi!” You chirped again, patting his back.

“You’ve outdone yourself, love.” he murmured instead of a proper greeting, voice thick with gratitude.

Soap was next, scooping you into a hug so enthusiastic it lifted you off your feet right after John let you go. “Missed ya, lass,” he said, his grin bright despite the weariness in his eyes. “Look at ya, a sight fo’ sore eyes!”

“Put me down, MacTavish!”

Gaz kissed your cheek the second Johnny obeyed, his hand lingering on your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do all this, darling.” he said softly, though the way he looked at you made it clear he appreciated every bit of it.

Ghost, towering behind them, stood silently for a moment. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the nervous smile tugging at your lips. Without a word, he stepped forward and pulled you into his chest, one large hand cradling the back of your head.

“Perfect girl, thank you.” he muttered, so low you barely heard it. But you did feel it rumble through his body.

You laughed, stepping back and gesturing toward the table. You had to know what they thought of it. “Go wash up. Dinner’s ready.”.

Johnny piled his plate high, moaning exaggeratedly at every bite and making you laugh until your sides hurt. Gaz teased him about his lack of table manners while sneaking extra bread rolls for himself. Price, ever the gentleman, made sure your plate was full before his own, and Simon quietly made his way through two full helpings even, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smile when you nudged him to try the mushroom sauce.

Oh yes, you cooked. In more ways than one. You were so very proud of yourself, felt like you’d blow up like a balloon if they complimented you any more.

“This is the best meal I’ve had in months,” Johnny declared at last, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and patting his stomach. He turned to you, gently caressing his knuckles across your full cheeks. “Thank ya, lass. Truly an angel.”

“You’ve ruined me for army food forever,” Kyle added, humming as he bit into another spoonful, smiling at your giggles. “Whatever next mission we’ll have is so going to suck, by the way. I mean it.”

Price reached over, covering your hand with his. “You didn’t have to do all this, love, but I’m damn glad you did,” he said, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. His mustache twitched, and he smiled at you. “Kyle’s right, though.”

Simon didn’t speak much, but the way his gaze lingered on you, warm and heavy, spoke volumes. You’d already learned how to decipher his little looks, anyways.

As the evening wound down and they cleaned the kicthen, then went to rest in the living room, you brought out the second surprises: the chocolate cake and apple pie, earning a round of groans and cheers. They insisted on helping with the second round of dishes, but you waved them off, laughing.

“Go relax,” you said, shooing them toward the living room. “This is my treat for you. You were supposed to be relaxing today!”

Though you didn’t notice the way they watched you as you moved about the kitchen.

When you finally joined them, changing into something more comfortable, you curl up on the couch tucked against Simon’s warm side and his arm drape around your shoulders almost instinctively. Soap stretched out across the floor, his head resting on a pillow near your feet, while Kyle sat on the other side of you, casually brushing his hand against yours.

It didn’t take much before you were dozing off, their quiet congestion washing over you as a soothing ambiance. You relaxed even further when you were shifted to lay fully against Simon while Kyle put your feet on his lap and began massaging your calves.

John stood by the balcony, his cigar glowing faintly in the dim light. He looked at you, surrounded by them, and something in his chest loosened.

You were too good for them, truly. Such a lovely, perfect sweetheart. But he also just- couldn’t stand the idea of you being with anyone else. Never.

So he wouldn’t entertain that thought. You were perfect as you were now; just a bit more time, and they’d tell you right out how much they want you in every possible way.

Though he didn’t imagine it’d be that hard, anyways. You already acted like their perfect little wife.

They can do more than that if they want (≧◡≦)

i gotta go and think about golfer! john price and his buddies who frequent the country club you work at and they tip extra nice, and sometimes they like to slip it in the waistband of your skirt!!

AMERICA (￣^￣)ゞ(￣^￣)ゞ🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 but this is so funny XD like Kyle crashing out is so funny XD

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

Gaz>>>>

“Is that a threat?” ✦ Kyle Garrick

      Kyle passed the blunt to you with a heavy sigh. “Could go for a bite,” he mentions offhandedly. His fingers glide down the skin of your arm again and again until he finally throws his arm over you and tucks his head between your tits.

     You hum. “What’re you wanting, pretty boy?”

     A choked whine splutters out of Kyle’s throat. “Mm…” he turns his head to press kisses to your sternum. Large hands slide down to your hips as you finish off the joint. “You.”

     “To eat, Kye,” you chuckle. You muss with his hair: pulling at his little curls and twisting them together gently.

     A low groan rumbles Kyle’s muscular body. “I could eat you so good right now, baby.”

     Your eyes glint brightly in the dark room lit only by the moonlight streaming from the cracked window and the penis night light (a gag gift from Johnny). “Is that a threat?”

     Kyle’s large fingers pull down the soft fabric of your shorts and underwear to rub the pad of his thumb over your pussy lightly. “No-” he murmurs, tossing your undergarments to the floor before peppering kisses ranging from your inner thighs to your clit- “it’s a promise.”

Werewolf Bites

pervious <- itching barbs -> next stage of infection

tws; sickness , injuries , vomiting , violence, no use of y/n

parings: gaz x male reader (established relationship)

-> c/n - call sign

-> n/n - nickname

"And so you've having these dreams ever since ya' got bit?"

"I mean uh..yeah?"

"Have you considered your maybe a furry?."

You smacked Soap on top of his head as he laughed.

"Soap I'm serious!"

"I know I know!-" Soap snickered as he tried to keep down his fit of giggles.

"So..do you think they mean anything?"

"..Honest no clue."

You huffed as he gently patted your shoulder.

Said shoulder still had the odd discoloration that worried you slightly you didn't want to be benched for longer you waited to get back out there you were getting more antsy than usual.

You couldn't stay still much, Spending your time on training once more when you were given the clear you wouldn't tear anything open.

You had missed training with Ghost but today you were horribly off and he made sure you knew it too as he way to easily knocked you down.

"You distracted Sergeant."

"M'not-"

"Usually its only when Kyles in the room your like this even then you can do better than this."

"..I know."

You got up back up with a huff shaking off a bit.

We were focused.

And then you fell again this time pinned under Ghost.

"What is wrong with you today?"

You huffed as you just growled glancing aside causing Ghost to roll his eyes getting off you.

Wait did you just growl at him?

"If you expect to be back in the action you need to focus."

He paused before grabbing your arm and tugging you up once he got off you.

"What's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong with us..me- I-"

"..Jesus mate If something is wrong with you and Gaz you-"

"It's not that!." You quickly corrected before apologizing for raising your voice the training room was empty it was later on in the day.

You just slightly flinched when he let go of your arm avoiding eye contact.

What was wrong with us?

Me.

"I-It's not that..I..I've just been having dreams and things have been happening since I got into that incident everything has felt off and loud.." You trailed off fiddling with your fingers your gaze falling down the training mat.

You felt a tug as you were pulled to the side and onto the bench Ghost staring down at you the longer he was quiet the longer you felt you'd overstepped.

"Have you gone to the therapist about it?" He finally spoke up which eased your nerves.

"Well..no."

"Go, If it's bothering you this bad, Go." He picked up his towel and water.

"But—"

"Just go I'm not having Price sign your clear unless you back to your usual self." Ghost huffed as he stared you down until you nodded giving in.

"We can pick up later."

And then he left.

Leaving us with our god-awful thoughts.

You were getting agitated.

This isn't what we need.

We need Kyle, our bed, our den.

But then yet you just listened to the therapist talk honestly it was good advise and offering of resources.

But it isn't what we need.

You sat for the whole session till the end it was short but you guessed needed, You wanted to find Kyle but he was in the mess hall too loud too many scents.

Too many scents.

You had recently started to get more agitated towards these things as time passed, It was honestly scaring you.

And oh god the itching.

You've had to start wearing longer sleeves because you unknowingly scratched bad enough to tear your skin.

At least you were doing better with training nothing serious still but at least you were getting back into your old ways.

You just hoped whatever this was would go away.

a/n: this one is erm VERY short bc im getting drained of ideas 😭ill still be trying im just almso doing other thigns in life trying to get over art block etc

Werewolf Bites

pervious <- discomfort -> next stage of infection

tws; sickness , injuries , vomiting , violence, no use of y/n

parings: gaz x male reader (established relationship)

-> c/n - call sign

-> n/n - nickname

Fuck

You feel like you've said that too many times now.

But it was right once again.

The fluorescent lights were killing you as you squinted around the room your eyes landing on a blurry figure entering the room they said something something as they talked too your side.

It was all muffled you just stared up at them.

You probably look stupid now eyes all unfocused and ears still faintly ringing as your hearing came back staring up at them like a bug.

"..God you're probably too drugged up to even remember the past few days..maybe even too out of it to understand this again."

Again.

Hm.

You blinked as he came into focus finally.

Oh right, Kyle.

"Again?"

"..Yeah Lovie..nice to see you awake again you've been in and out of it..How's the shoulder..?"

Right the bite.

You could barely feel it really but with a quick glance at it and more colors of bruises than the rainbow itself, you guessed the drugs were working great for you to feel barely anything.

"..Can't feel it much.."

"..Good..they upped your dosage enough the last time you woke you were sobbing near screaming in pain..I..It hurt to see you like that.."

"..Oh sorry.."

He just sighed chuckled as he shook his head and gently pressed a kiss to your forehead as he leaned down.

"Don't apologize..You've been through so much..Mission was a success though..The guys have been checking in on you too.."

"..Ghost too..?"

"Yes, love..I still don't understand why you think he hates you over a small prank.."

You just whined huffing it was a small prank honestly but it feels like you've done something horrible, You could blame your anxiety or whatever the hell else is wrong with you.

But you blamed yourself.

"..Try not to think about it much..Focus on healing up.."

And focus you did.

A day had passed and you fever had gone down.

They took you off your IV and finally gave you the all-clear for a mostly solid lunch a sandwich, some apples, medicine.

Water.

You had ate everything else swallowing your pills dry.

You couldn't stand the taste of the water though.

Maybe it was just your tastebuds being weird.

Next day you luckily got juice.

Gaz visited when he could ill you were eventually back up on your feet with a still sore and off-colored shoulder.

You'd still have to get some checkups for it it would have returned back to its normal color by now you weren't that worried though you were feeling great really.

You were told to take it easy minimal training meant you were still benched on Price's order and your begrudging acceptance.

But there were pros the main being that now you were cuddled up gently with Gaz who carded his hand gently through your hair peppering kisses along your face grinning.

"I missed you so much.."

"You saw me everyday.."

"I..I mean I missed holding you..Being close like this with you.."

"..I missed you too."

God, you didn't know how you got with such an incredible man.

Luck? Pity?

Maybe both.

The day you confessed you honestly thought your heart would give out when he just giggled.

That sly man of course had to tease you he already knew the rest of team knew your schoolgirl crush on Kyle.

You weren't subtle about it.

Following him around and 'coincidentally' ending up in the same room as him.

Just being close to him made you feel all fuzzy, You didnt want to be seen as a creep but you just loved everything about him.

You both never talked about marriage but you'd give everything you had to be with him to please him the lingering fear of showing such love to him still hung around.

You fear you'd break if he left you.

Us.

"Love?"

"Mm..?"

Oh he was looking at you all concerned.

Why.

Did you do something wrong? You didnt mean too.

Please dont be upset.

"You whined..Is it your shoulder..?"

"I did..?"

"Yeah..you did.."

"Its nothing.."

You shifted as you sat up in bed ignoring the tug at the back of your mind to sit and stay.

Why were you thinking like this now?.

"Love..c'mon speak for me please.. Whatever ever it is you can tell me."

"I-..I don't know..I just..feel off.."

"You must be..youve been cooped up in the medical ward for days.."

"Yeah..I guess its that.."

You sighed as you felt him gently kiss your sore shoulder.

"Hows the shoulder..?"

"Sore..achy..but fine."

"Mm..Well thats better.."

He smiled, God that smile.

You didnt resist when he gently brought you back to laying down his hands gently glided his hands over your arms and thighs before coming back up to cup your face.

"Heh.."

"What..? Is..Is there something on my face?"

"If you mean the adorable look your giving me then yeah.."

"Oh hush.."

You both laid like that for a bit enjoying the quiet.

"Love you n/n"

"Love you too.."

a/n: hopefully this is good kinda of rushed the end

Werewolf Bites

Masterlist

nausea -> next stage of infection

tws; sickness , injuries , vomiting , violence, no use of y/n

parings: gaz x male reader (established relationship)

-> c/n - call sign

-> n/n - nickname

a/n: hehehe im excited for this. also idk how military shit works im winging it your here for gaz no complete accuracy

Why did it have to be you.

You had missed a room while clearing out this corridor of the building this mission was supposed to be a easy co-op with you and Gaz.

But now your were trying to claw off this big fucking dog from ripping your throat out your gun somewhere dropped in surprised of getting lunged at.

It sunk its fangs deep into your shoulder dangerously close to your neck as blood spewed and your cried out in agony you finally got a hold of your combat knife sinking it into the dogs body repeatedly till it slumped over dead.

Shoving the corpse off you, You bit your tongue as burning pain flared up in your shoulder Gaz's crackly voice over your radio finally audible now with the lack of your cries of pain and dog growls.

"c/n? c/n how copy?"

You swallowed back the bile building in your throat as you heaved grabbing your radio flicking it on shakily as tried to focus with the searing pain in your shoulder.

"c/n here— fuck" You hissed as you pushed yourself up with your good arm.

"c/n? give me a sitrep you went silent on me."

"..Fuckin' dog got me- I opened up a room and the fucker pounced huge fuckin' thing." You looked over at your wound grimacing at the sight of bruising blooming as blood trickled down your arm near excessively.

"Shit..Can you make it back to the main entrance?..I got the files ill radio for exfil."

"I..I can"

"c/n."

"I can"

"Alright."

You flicked your radio off as you trudged your way back where you came.

"Bloody hell c/n you gotta be more careful."

Gaz gently chided as you huffed wincing.

"Your lucky the fucker didn't rip your throat out.."

You grumbled looking aside the future rabies shots were not going to be a pleasant thing to be welcomed with when you both reached back at base.

"You alright..? Looking a bit pale."

"M'fine..Just..A bit woozy."

"Mm..exfil is a another hour or two out still don't go all rabies on me before then how about that."

You chuckled dryly as you blearing blinked as you leaned over dry heaving before puking your guts out catching Gaz off guard as he steadied you so wouldn't fall over into your own bile gently rubbing your back.

"Fuck..It's okay..Christ."

Coughing and gagging the unpleasant taste of bile lingering in your mouth as Gaz helped you sit down away from your mess.

"Just..Just sit down and rest..When we get home they'll fix you right up no? You'll have a killer scar after this all."

You got hummed coughing as Gaz wiped your face clean despite how you mumbled how gross it was as he kissed your forehead shushing your incoherent ramble.

You hadn't gotten any better and the exfil wasn't that far away now Gaz updated you as he held you close you were sweating bullets managing to keep down the water from your canteen.

He assured and updated on the helis time frame to reach you both, You could tell he was nervous never the best at hiding his emotions from you even in this fever ridden mess you were.

"There gonna be here soon love, Mm? Gonna get you back in shape..Hows the shoulder?."

You mumbled swallowing thickly as you shifted in his arms.

"You gotta speak up for me Lovie tell me how you are?"

"M'all sticky.."

"Well I'd guess so your sweating buckets..They'll be here soon okay?"

He sighed as he rana hand threw your near damp hair eventually giving you a few more sips of water as you both waited.

Exfil was quick a another solider helping you up into the heli a medic waiting along inside that went to work on you as you were laid onto the floor.

But all you remembered was falling asleep and awaking on the warm earth.

Running your hands threw the soft soil as you sat up a chill still rattling your bones.

"Gaz?"

You called out as you looked around cautiously your hand drifted too your holster to find it gone along with all other gear gone.

You felt bare exposed like a nerve the flicker and twitch of muscle felt like tremors in the earth as you looked around you saw nothing but forest.

"Kyle?"

Still nothing.

You frowned as you looked around you felt so warm you guessed it was the sun beaming down on you.

You hadn't been walking long till you reached a river bed the sudden parched feeling in your thought becoming know as you greedily gulped down water.

What was even going on?

You felt like you hadn't drank in days.

When you looked up you flinched at the sight of the dog that attacked you.

Or at least you thought it was a dog at the time.

It just stared at you, Yellow eyes staring you down as foam dripped down from his maw the foam slowly bubbling up into a pinkish tinge as blood dripped from its mouth .

It probably had rabies.

You did too.

You hoped.

I'm back on my Sons of Anarchy bullshit so here you are ~

Something something the 141 being a notorious close-knit outlaw motorcycle club. Price being the mc President, Ghost being the Vice President, Gaz being sergeant-at-arms and Soap being intelligence officer.

And you were the pretty bird that worked behind the bar, 'Too feisty to be a Crow Eater' Ghost would say but 'Too pretty to not have a job at the club' Soap would say. Everyone knows that you're off limits, not because Price said so.

Oh no

But because when you first started working at the club, one of the other bikers mistaking thought you were a Crow Eater so when he thought he could cop a feel you didn't hesitate to grab the closet thing, an empty beer bottle, and smash it over his head. You held the broken bottle and threatened everyone. Stating angrily that if anyone was to touch you then they'd end up in A&E.

Unfortunately for you, Gaz saw that as a challenge.

A challenge he succeeded with every time. It almost became a game between you both

Every weekend, at some point through the night, he'd back you up into a corner. Conveniently the corner closes to his room at the club

'Gaz, I will twat you' You'd half heartedly threaten him, not completely meaning it.

Gaz would flash you his pretty boy smile 'Sure you would sweetheart'

You'd lift you hand to hit him but Gaz was quick. He was always quicker than you. He'd pin your wrist to the wall, wrapped his hand gently around your throat that he knows makes your knees weak.

He knows you better than you know yourself. The subtle flinch when he goes for your neck, the way your breath hitches, a silent protest he ignores. He learned that a sharp bite on your shoulder, a playful aggression, elicits a moan so sweet, so utterly yielding, it makes him want to devour you whole. He knows the precise pressure to apply, the exact spot to sink his teeth into.

He knows how to make you look at him. Cupping the back of your head, his thumb gently pressing beneath your jaw, tilting your face upward – just enough to catch the innocent, wide-eyed gaze he adores. Those doe eyes, so full of a naive trust that belies the raw, desperate need that writhes beneath the surface. Those eyes, those eyes are his downfall, his salvation.

Every time Gaz whispers those words into your ear, your heart skips a beat.

'Gonna make you my old lady,' he groans, his breath hot against your skin as his hips thrust against yours. You can feel him, hard and insistent, as the tip of his cock constantly batters that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

'Yo- You say that every time,' you gasp, your voice high and full of lust. 'You never make good on your promise.'

Gaz flips you onto your stomach, his hand coming down firmly on the middle of your shoulder blades to keep you in place. He fists your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck to him. You can feel his breath against your skin as he slowly pushes himself back into your sloppy hole.

'Then let me,' he begs, his voice low and full of need. He picks up speed, his hips slapping against yours as he takes what he wants from you. 

And you let him

Maybe becoming his old lady wouldn't be so terrible

I am on a motherfucking ROLL lately

I like how we all collectively agree that pretty boy Kyle has the prettiest dick ever and I

My favourite artist just liked 141 - Stickers and I'm just 😭😭

I've really made it in life 😭😭😭

It's @littlebit-of-art ❤️😭😭

141 - First Words

So my baby said his first word the other day and mine and my partners reaction was fucking hilarious. Now I can't stop thinking about the 141 reaction to their baby saying Dada for the first time

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish would cry, like ugly tears type crying. No he does not care about the snot coming out of his nose, his precious baby just said Dada. He was on the floor playing with baby MacTavish during tummy time, you were in the kitchen cleaning up after you and Soap decided to bake Making another baby. Baby MacTavish is a chatter box like their daddy, always babbling and Soap answered back to baby MacTavish's very interesting story. Soap didn't hear it at first, he thought it was babbling nonsense until he heard it again. The simple word Dada and he's picking baby MacTavish up and rushing to the kitchen 

Thay said Dada

Soap holding baby MacTavish up like a prize

Fuck off, you're lying (Your baby was growing up too quickly)

Their first word was Dada

Soap was already crying

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick would be shocked, swears he's going deaf because no way baby Garrick is talking already. Gaz was bouncing baby Garrick on his knee, pulling funny faces to hear their belly laugh, you were on Netflix trying to find a movie to watch. You were both were in your own world before baby Garrick screamed then ever so quietly said Dada, you and Gaz's head snapped towards each other as you stared at each other 

Did they -

I think so

Gaz turning to baby Garrick

Did you say Dada? You can't have, you were born like last week

Babe they're 8 months old now 

Nope. Still a wrinkly baby 

Captain John Price would just smile, like a smug smile that baby Price's first word Dada. Make's him feel like he's the favourite parent Not realising that when baby Price is upset you can use the fact they can only say Dada against him "Sorry baby, they want you :)". Knowing Price's luck, baby Price will say Dada when he's at work. As soon as you hear the words you're on the phone ringing Price, he picks up at the first ring scared something happened. When you tell him what happened you best believe he's dropping everything to come home, doesn't matter if he's in a very important meeting with Laswell. Baby Price said Dada, he must go home at once

Price coming home and runs straight past you

See, I'm the favourite parent 

John Baby... That's not how that works-

Price is ignoring you as he's kissing baby Price's cheeks 

I'm gonna buy you anything you want. Just say Dada again. Please

Simon 'Ghost' Riley also cries. He'll cry silent tears as he holds baby Riley to his chest, years ago he never thought he'd have his own family and now he's here. Witnessing his baby's first words. Ghost, being the excellent father he is, basically forced you to finally go out for girls night knowing you needed time to yourself. Ghost couldn't wait for a night of tummy time, playing and just straight up cuddling while watching Bluey. Baby Riley was laid on their daddy's chest, trying to fight sleep but failing miserably and just before baby Riley fell asleep they said Dada as they clutched to Ghost's shirt.

Did you say Dada

Ghost didn't move realising baby Riley is now asleep

God I never thought I'd love anyone more then I love your mummy

Ghost carefully hugs baby Riley tighter 

But then you came into my life. Best thing to ever happy to me and your mummy  

Nurse!Reader x 141 and stickers

How I think the 141 would act if Nurse!Reader gives out stickers to all the soldiers they patch up on base: This is my first headcanon

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish absolutely fucking loves the stickers, like he's lowkey obsessed with getting one. His sketchbook is covered in the stickers you give him and if there's no more room for the stickers that's okay. He'll just buy a new one. Lowkey gets pouty and sassy if you forget to give him a sticker after patching him up.

And we are done. Good as new 

Soap wait's patiently with his hand stuck out 

What are you waiting for Soap?

Fur mah sticker. Obviously

Oh shit. Sorry, I forgot

Whit dae ye mean ye forgot? dae ye nae care aboot me anymair

Grow up you drama Queen

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Is a bit like Soap in a way he loves the stickers. They make him happy in this fuck up world, when he get's his sticker for being a brave boy, as you say, he wears the sticker all day as a badge of honour but if he looses the stickers randomly in the day he gets kinda pouty when he asks for another one 

Can I have another sticker please?

Did you loose yours already?

I didn't mean too! I think Soap stole mine. Pretty please can I have another one

You know the rules. Unless you're injured I'm not giving you a stickers

Cue puppy dog eyes

Goddamit Kyle. Fine, here's your sticker but don't loose it

Captain John Price felt a bit silly at first when you gave him a sticker. He's grown man, he doesn't need a sticker for getting patched up but he very quickly grew to love receiving a sticker off you. He asked if you'd tare the paper the sticker is on, they're easier to save then. He doesn't stick them anywhere but has a small box in his office where he stashes them. For safe keeping.

Why don't you wear the stickers?

Because it ruins them

Ruins them?

Yeah. I like to hold onto them

Do you stick them anywhere?

Nope. I have a small box specifically for the stickers you give me 

Simon 'Ghost' Riley thought the stickers were a stupid idea, he's a grown ass man. Why would he want a sticker for getting patched up? He isn't a child. That's what he tells you but secretly he adores them. He'll moan and grumble as you slap one onto his chest but the moment he's in his room, Ghost will carefully peel it off his shirt and stick it in a scrapbook. Once got a little upset you didn't give him a sticker, he left the infirmary pretending he didn't care but 1 hour later he came back

Why didn't you give me a sticker?

Because you don't like them. You said they were stupid

Well. That's because they are. M'not a child

Then why are you asking why I didn't give you a sticker?

Ghost quietly grumbling and sticking his hand out

Can I just have my sticker please 

Beautiful

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Fem!Mermaid reader

Big thanks too @brokenpieces-72 and @all-purpose-dish-soap for the plot idea!! love you 🫶

I really really hope I've done Kyle justice here 😩

The icy water clawed at Kyle's skin, the pressure in his ears a dull throb. Panic flared in his chest, a cold, sharp spike. His oxygen gauge flickered, a mocking red, and his lungs burned. He'd been reckless, pushing too far, and now his tank was failing. He was going to die here, alone, in the depths of this frigid, unforgiving sea. Then, strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him upward. He felt a surge of relief, a desperate hope, but his vision blurred, his body heavy. He couldn't see who was helping him, only felt the powerful, rhythmic strokes pulling him towards the surface.

He woke to the harsh sunlight and the familiar faces of Task Force 141. The relief was overwhelming, but it was quickly followed by confusion. He remembered the panic, the darkness, and then... someone had saved him. But who?

Kyle, still shaky, shook his head. "No, I... I don't know what happened. I felt someone pull me up."

"You alright, Gaz?" Johnny's voice was gruff, concern etched on his face. "You were out cold for a good five minutes. Thought you'd gone and met Nessie down there."

The others exchanged glances. "You sure you didn't just black out and think you were saved?" John asked, his tone sceptical.

Kyle frowned. "No, I'm telling you, someone was there. I felt their arms around me."

The incident became a running joke amongst the team, with Johnny constantly teasing Kyle about 'meeting Nessie.' But Kyle couldn't shake the feeling of truth in his memory. He had to know who saved him.

Weeks later, driven by a need for answers, Kyle returned to the mission site. He rented a small boat and spent hours scanning the water, the memory of the strong arms pulling him up vivid in his mind. Then, he saw it. A flash of emerald green, a tail shimmering in the sunlight.

A mermaid.

You swim gracefully through the crystal clear waters, your emerald tail propelling you effortlessly through the waves. your long, wavy hair cascades behind you like a waterfall, reflecting the sun's rays as you moves. You pauses when you spot something floating on the surface.

A boat? 

Curiosity piqued, you surface, your eyes widening at the sight of a human. That human. The one you saved.

As the figure surfaced, Kyle's heart skipped a beat. It was her, the mysterious saviour from his near-death experience. You were real, not some delusion or hallucination brought on by oxygen deprivation. You were stunningly beautiful, your hair flowing like a river of molten gold in the sunlight, your eyes a captivating blend of gold and red that held an air of mystery. You were different, unique, unlike anyone he'd ever seen before. And you'd saved his life.

You quickly dove back down into the water. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have come looking for you. It was stupid really. Reckless. You should of left him to his fate...but you couldn't. You couldn't watch an innocent human die.

Kyle watched as the enigmatic figure dived back beneath the waves, leaving him with more questions than answers. Despite the brief encounter, he knew he wouldn't forget you any time soon. Your actions spoke volumes about your character, and your beauty captivated him in a way no other woman had. There was something undeniably intriguing about you, a sense of mystery that made him want to learn more.

He found himself returning to the same spot over and over again, drawn to the memory of the mermaid who'd saved his life. Each visit filled him with a strange longing, a desire to see you again, to thank you properly for saving his life. He began to bring offerings, seashells and starfish, anything he thought might catch your attention.

You can feel his presence every time he comes. Its annoying really. He doesn't belong here. This is your home, your sanctuary. Why does he keep coming? To see you? No. He wants something else. Something more. He wants answers. Answers to questions you cannot give. You're not supposed to exist. Not anymore anyway. But you do...and you can't let him find out. You can't let him expose you.

One day, as he tossed a handful of sweet treats onto the water's surface, he swore he saw a flicker of movement beneath the waves. Was it her? Had she returned? He stayed longer than usual, waiting, hoping for another glimpse of the mysterious mermaid.

He waited for you, patiently watching the horizon until the sky turned dark. He knew you were there, hiding in the shadows, observing him. He knew you didn't want him there, but he also knew you hadn't stopped him yet. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever came next.

"I know you're there," he called out, his voice echoing across the empty sea. "Please, I just want to talk. I won't tell anyone about you. I promise."

You listen to his words. You don't trust them. Humans lie all the time. They lie to protect themselves. They lie to get what they want. But you need to hear him out. You need to understand why he keeps coming here. He's persistent isn't he? Maybe that's something you admire? Or maybe its infuriating? Either way, you decide to show yourself. Just enough so he knows its you. Your eyes meet his as you break the surface of the water.

When the mysterious figure finally emerged from the depths, Kyle's heart pounded in his chest. It was her, the mermaid who'd saved his life. Their eyes locked, yours filled with a mix of curiosity and caution, while his were filled with gratitude and admiration.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the sound of the waves crashing against the boat. "For saving me."

You watch him. Watch his face for any signs of deception. None are shown. You swims closer to the boat, your movements graceful and fluid. Your close now. Close enough to touch if you wanted to. You reach out a hand, touching the side of the boat gently. A sign of acceptance maybe? An olive branch? Or just another test? Only time will tell.

He watched, entranced, as the mermaid swam closer to the boat. He could almost reach out and touch you, if only he dared. When you touched the side of the boat, he felt a surge of hope. Could it be that you were willing to communicate?

"I'm Kyle," he introduced himself, extending a hand towards you.

You watch his hand move through the water towards you. You takes it hesitantly, your grip firm yet gentle. You pull yourself closer to the boat, your body breaking the surface of the water. Your upper body is exposed now. You looks up at him, your eyes questioning as you introduced yourself.

Kyle heart raced as you pulled yourself closer to the boat, your body breaking the surface of the water. He was face-to-face with a mermaid, and you were even more breath taking than he'd imagined.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice trembling slightly from excitement. "I owe you my life." You hold his gaze, your eyes intense. You pull yourself further onto the boat, your lower half still submerged in the water. Your upper body is bare, your skin glistening with water droplets. You look at him curiously, taking in his features with equal intensity.

"Why do you keep coming back?" you asks, your voice soft yet steady.

Kyle swallowed hard as you pulled yourself fully onto the boat, your lower half still hidden beneath the water. His eyes traced the lines of your body, taking in your bare skin glistening with water droplets. You were even more beautiful up close.

"To see you," he admitted honestly, meeting your gaze. "To thank you properly for saving my life."

Your eyes narrow slightly as you process his answer. You take a moment to study him. To analyse his facial expressions, his tone of voice. Is he lying? Does he truly just want to thank you? Or is there something more? You can't read humans very well. They're too complex.

He met your gaze head-on, unflinching under your scrutiny. He understood your scepticism; after all, he would likely feel the same in your position. But his intentions were pure - he simply wanted to express his gratitude.

"If it helps," he offered, "I've brought you gifts." He gestured towards some sweet treats beside him.

You look at this gifts he brought you. Gifts? From a human? "What are they?" You questioned. Your gaze never leaving the gifts, you've never seen anything like them before. They look...spongy and pretty? He pointed out each item one by one - the fluffy, sweet-smelling muffins, and the rich, decadent chocolate cake. He hoped these would help bridge the gap between their two worlds.

"They're called muffins and cake," he explained. "They're sweet and delicious. Would you like to try one?" His question hung in the air, a silent plea for acceptance. You look at him sceptically and then back at the gifts. Muffins and cake? What a strange name, and you can eat them? You looked back at Kyle, your curiosity got the better of you. 

"Please" 

Kyle's heart swelled with delight when you agreed to try the food. He carefully picked up a muffin and held it out to you. "Here you go," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. "It's called a blueberry muffin." As he spoke, he couldn't help but marvel at how surreal this situation was. Here he was, on a boat in the middle of the ocean, offering cake to a mermaid.

You watch as he holds out the muffin to you. The gesture is kind and gentle, and you find yourself drawn to it. You reach out slowly, your fingers brushing against his as you take the muffin. Your touch is light, hesitant. You bring the muffin to your lips and takes a bite.

Your eyes widen in surprise as the flavours burst in your mouth. Sweetness, tanginess, a hint of crunchiness. It's overwhelming and amazing all at once. You chew slowly, savouring every bit before swallowing. Kyle watched as you took the muffin from his hands, his heart pounded in his chest as he waited for your reaction. When your eyes widened and you began to chew, he let out a sigh of relief. She liked it!

After finishing off the muffin, you look over at the..... Cake? Your eyes wide with curiosity. You reach out and pick up a piece of the cake, holding it up to inspect it. It's dark and moist looking, and smells divine. You bring the piece to your lips and takes a bite.

The taste is unlike anything you've ever experienced. Rich, sweet, and smooth. It melts in your mouth and leaves you wanting more. You place it on the boat before you hoist yourself up and sit on the edge of the boat, you fin swaying lazily in the water as you picked the cake back up.

Kyle watched in awe as you eagerly devoured the cake, your eyes lighting up with each bite. He couldn't help but smile widely, feeling a sense of satisfaction knowing that he had managed to share something new with you. "That's chocolate cake," he told you, pointing at the remaining piece. He leaned back against the boat, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and the company of this intriguing creature.

You continue to eat the cake, savouring each bite. You look up at Kyle, studying him. There's something about him that's different from other humans you've encountered. He seems genuine, honest. Any regrets you had saving him were now gone.

He noticed the change in your demeanour. Your earlier suspicion seemed to have faded away, replaced by an almost friendly curiosity. He felt relieved. "I should probably start heading back soon," he mentioned, standing up and picking up the empty food wrappers. "But I'd love to come visit again sometime."

His words were sincere; he genuinely enjoyed spending time with you and wanted to get to know you better. You look at him as he stands up, and you notice his form is tall and lean. He moves with an ease that you admire. As he picks up the wrappers, you gently lower yourself back into the water. "Tomorrow?" You ask softly, your voice echoing the sincerity in your eyes.

Kyle was taken aback by your question. Tomorrow? He hadn't expected you to invite him back so soon. But the thought of seeing you again, sooner rather than later, filled him with excitement.

"I'd like that," he replied, a warm smile spreading across his face. "See you tomorrow then." With a final wave, he started the boat and drove it back to shore, leaving a trail of bubbles behind.

You watch as he drives the boat back to shore, your eyes following the trail of bubbles until they disappear completely. A small smile graces your lips as you dip back under the water, the surface reflecting the moon above.

Back on land, Kyle couldn't stop thinking about his encounter with you. His heart swelled with warmth as he replayed the events of the day in his mind. He found himself looking forward to tomorrow with eager anticipation.

The next evening, he arrived at the same spot as yesterday. He was excited to see you again, and brought more treats with him.

Kyle waited patiently, scanning the water's surface for any sign of you. After what felt like an eternity, there was a splash and you emerged from the depths, your wet hair slicked back and clinging to your skin. You swim towards him, a big smile on your face. When you reach him, you climb onto the boat and sat on the edge, dripping water everywhere. You look at the food he brought. For you.

Kyle's heart fluttered as you emerged from the water, your smile as radiant as ever. "Hey there," he greeted you, handing you the food. "I brought some more treats for you." You accept the food from him, your hand brushing against his. You take the food and begin eating it, savouring every bite just like you did yesterday. You glance up at him occasionally, a soft smile on your face.

He watched as you ate the food he'd brought, noting the soft smile that graced your lips when you looked at him. He felt a strange warmth spread through him, a sensation he'd never really experienced before. "Would you... like to go for a ride on the boat?" He asked, trying to keep his nervousness in check.

You tilt your head, your nose scrunched up in concentration. "How about we race instead?" You suggests, your voice lilting. "See what's faster. Me or the boat."

Kyle laughed, the sound echoing across the water. He loved your playful spirit. "A race it is," he agreed, starting the engine and adjusting the throttle. "But fair warning, I'm pretty competitive." With that, he revved the engine and waited for you to signal the start of the race. "So am I" you giggle as you dive into the water, disappearing beneath the waves before coming back up. "First one to that buoy over there wins." Kyle watched as you dove into the water, your movements graceful and fluid. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he waited for you to resurface.

"On your mark..." he called out, his gaze locked on the buoy. "Get set... GO!"

Without hesitation, he gunned the engine, sending the boat speeding through the water. The wind rushed past him, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the thrill of competition. As Kyle sped off, it caught you off guard, but you quickly caught up to him, your sleek tail easily keeping pace with the boat. You swam alongside Kyle, teasing him with your speed and agility. You laughed and disappeared beneath the waves, using your powerful tail to propel yourself through the water. You knew you had the advantage in this race, but you couldn't resist the opportunity to show off your skills to Kyle.

His heart pounded in his chest as he raced through the water, the wind rushing past him. He could see you right beside him, your speed and agility a testament to your nature. Just as he thought he might catch up to you, you would suddenly disappear, only to reappear further ahead. You were fast, incredibly fast. But Kyle wasn't one to give up easily. With renewed determination, he pushed the boat harder, matching your speed stroke for stroke.

You continue to tease Kyle, showing off your speed and agility. Your laughter echoes through the water as you dart in and out of his path. You enjoy watching him try to keep up with you. You flicked your tail to splash him, hoping to catch him off before you sped off again.

Kyle felt a rush of cold water as you splashed him, your laughter echoing in his ears. He could see the teasing glint in your eye as you darted away, your tail flicking playfully.

'She's enjoying this too much,' he thought, his determination growing stronger. He pressed the throttle even further, the boat responding eagerly. You continue to tease him, your laughter filling the air as you dodge his attempts to catch you. You love the way his face scrunches up in concentration, the determination in his eyes. You flick your tail to splash him again before darting off once more.

He let out a hearty laugh as the cold water splashed him again, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the power of the boat beneath him, its response to his command. 'She's got spirit,' he thought again, admiring your tenacity. As you darted away once more, he pursued you, determined to win this race.

You continued to lead him on, your laughter ringing out across the water. You enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the challenge of staying ahead. You flicked your tail to send another wave of water crashing over him before darting off again towards the buoy. You were close. So close. Kyle doesn't have a chance.

You see Kyle closing in on you, his determination clear. You decide to make one last dash for the buoy. You push yourself to your limits, your muscles straining as you use your powerful tail to propel yourself forward. You reach the buoy first, a triumphant grin on your face.

Kyle saw you pull ahead, your speed and agility leaving him in awe. As they neared the buoy, he gave it one last shot, propelling the boat forward with all his strength. He reached the buoy mere seconds after you, you brought your fin up out of the water and nudge him lightly, a playful smirk on your face. "Told you I was faster." You say, your laughter filling the air again.

He smiled, his heart still pounding in his chest. He could feel the salty spray of the ocean on his skin, the exhilaration of the race still fresh in his mind. "You were faster this time," he admitted, meeting your gaze with a playful smirk of his own. "But next time, I'll beat you." His words hung in the air between them, a promise of future races and the camaraderie that came with them.

You giggle, your eyes shining with mirth and satisfaction. You lean against the side of the boat, catching your breath from the race. "Oh will you now?" You say, your voice light and teasing.

Kyle nodded, his smile widening. His competitive spirit was already stirring, ready for the next challenge. "Oh yes," he said confidently, "I always keep my promises." His gaze lingered on you, appreciating your strength and resilience. You were a force to be reckoned with, and he couldn't wait to see what other adventures they'd share together.

You wink at Kyle, your eyes twinkling with mischief. You're not sure if you believe his claim, but you're looking forward to seeing if he can prove it. You stretch lazily, your muscles still tingling from the race. "I'm always up for a good challenge," he said, his gaze never leaving yours. "And if it means spending more time with you, then I wouldn't miss it for the world." His words were sincere, a testament to the bond they shared. Despite their differences, they understood each other, respected each other. And for that, Kyle was grateful.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes reflecting the same sense of camaraderie and trust. You understand his competitive spirit, his desire to test his limits. You respect him for it. "Good," you say simply, "because I like a good challenge too."

"Then it's a deal," he said, extending his hand for a shake. "To future races and adventures." As their hands met, the bond between them strengthened. They were partners in this journey, allies in a world where survival was often a game of wit and skill.

You take Kyle's hand, feeling the firmness of his grip. You squeeze gently, your eyes locked onto his. This is more than just a race or an adventure; it's a partnership, a bond forged in the depths of the ocean. "It's a deal," *you say, your voice steady and resolute. As you gaze at his hand clasped in yours, a sudden surge of alarm courses through you. A crimson stain blooms on his skin, seeping through the cracks in his weathered hand.

"Kyle, you're bleeding!" You exclaim, your voice a mixture of concern and urgency. The words dance across the surface of the water, creating tiny ripples that break the otherwise still surface.

He looked down to see a cut on his palm, blood trickling down his fingers. "Damn," he muttered, wincing slightly. "Must have caught it on something when we were racing." He glanced at you, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Guess I'm not as invincible as I thought."

"Obviously," *you couldn't help but chuckle. You held your hand out. "Give me your hand." Your voice was firm, leaving no room for arguments. When Kyle didn't give you his hand, insisting that he was fine, you gently grabbed his wrist and brought his hand up to your lips but paused. You were about to do something that might seem a little...unconventional, to put it mildly.

"This is going to seem weird...and disgusting," you warned him, your voice softer now, almost apologetic. He looked at you, confusion etched on his face. You licked your lips, the saltiness of the ocean water leaving a metallic taste on your tongue. Then, you did it. You licked the palm of his hand, your tongue tracing the gash, the blood mingling with the salt.

Kyle watched, mesmerized, as you licked the wound on his hand. He felt a strange mix of discomfort and fascination, the sight both gross and oddly alluring. "What...the hell..." he muttered, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. He'd seen stranger things in his life, after all. Still, the sensation of your tongue against his skin sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't unpleasant, but it definitely wasn't normal either.

He watched, transfixed, as you lapped at the cut on his hand. He could feel the coolness of the sea water mixed with the heat of your breath, the wetness of your tongue against his skin. It was an odd sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. "Damn," he breathed out, his voice low and rough. "That's...that's some crazy shit right there." But even as he spoke, he found himself leaning into the sensation, his body responding despite his mind trying to process the strangeness of it all.

You pull away from his hand, watching as the cut closes before your very eyes. The edges of the wound fuse together, sealing shut without so much as a scar. Your saliva does its job, healing the small injury instantly. "There," you softly say, feeling satisfied. "All better." You look up at Kyle, meeting his gaze. Your eyes glint with a knowing smile, a silent acknowledgment of the bizarre yet effective method of first aid you just employed.

Kyle stared at his healed hand, disbelief washing over him. He'd expected a few stitches, maybe a band-aid at most, but not this. Not a lick of his hand by a mermaid. "That's...fuckin' amazing," he said, shaking his head in awe. "I mean, I've seen some shit in my time, but this takes the cake." He lifted his hand to inspect it again, running his thumb over the smooth skin where moments ago had been a gaping cut. His mind raced, trying to comprehend how something so simple could have such profound results. "And here I thought you were just a pretty face," he added, flashing you a teasing grin.

A laugh bubbles up from deep within you, echoing around the two of you in the vast ocean. It's a sound that's as unexpected as it is infectious, causing Kyle to join in, his hearty laughter mixing with yours.

"Pretty face?" You echo, rolling your eyes playfully. "Oh, please. Don't flatter yourself." 

You poke him lightly in the chest, your fingertips pressing against his skin. The contact sends a spark of electricity coursing through you, reminding you of the connection between you and Kyle. "But I suppose there's more to you than meets the eye too," you add, giving him a sly smirk as you splashed some water on him with you tail.

He chuckled, enjoying the banter between the two of them. He leaned back in the boat, his arms folded behind his head as he watched the waves crash against the hull. The salty air filled his lungs, a stark contrast to the thick smoke and grime of his usual environment.

"You know what they say about judging books by their covers," he quipped, shooting you a playful wink. His attention shifted momentarily to the horizon, his mind wandering to the events of the day. From the adrenaline-fueled race to the peculiar healing technique, today had been anything but ordinary.

You lean against the boat, your head resting on the side as you watch the sun dip below the horizon. The sky puts on a show, painting the heavens in hues of pink, orange, and purple. "It's beautiful," you murmur, your voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the boat. You turn to Kyle, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Wanna see another cool trick?"

Kyle turned to face you, his curiosity piqued. He'd seen plenty of sunsets in his lifetime, but none quite like this one. The colours seemed brighter, more vibrant, as if the world itself was putting on a show just for them. "Another trick, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm intrigued. What ya got?"

He leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked at you. There was a certain allure to you, a mystery that drew him in. You were unlike anyone he'd ever met, and he found himself wanting to know more about you.

You pat the side of the boat invitingly, a teasing smirk on your lips as your tail swishes behind you. "You've got to come in the water," you say, your voice a melody carried by the salty breeze. "Unless you're scared," you add, sending a playful splash of water towards him.

Kyle laughed, the sound rich and genuine. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun, or been around someone who could make him forget about everything else for a moment. "Nah, I ain't scared," he said, pushing himself off the boat and stepping closer to the edge. "Just don't want to get my good clothes wet," he joked, looking down at his jeans and t-shirt.

You giggle at his comment, the sound light and carefree. Your eyes sparkle with mischief as you hover near the edge, waiting for Kyle to take the plunge. "Well then, tough luck," you tease, flicking a droplet of water at him. "Just take your clothes off."

Kyle rolled his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips. He stripped off his clothing, leaving him in nothing but his boxer shorts. The cool air sent a shiver down his spine, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the anticipation building within him. "Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm coming in. Just don't laugh when I start swimming like a brick, okay?" With that, he took a deep breath and plunged into the water, disappearing beneath the surface.

As he resurfaced, he blinked rapidly, adjusting his eyes to the dimmer light. He shook his head, sending droplets of water flying in all directions. "Fuck, that's cold!" he exclaimed, his teeth chattering slightly.

You burst out laughing at Kyle's exclamation, the sound echoing around the both of you. You swim closer to him, your tail flicking playfully. "Cold? For you, maybe," you tease, your voice muffled by the water. "But I'm used to it." You swim up to him, so close your noses are nearly touching. "Close your eyes," you murmur, your voice softer now.

Gaz hesitates for a moment, then obeys, shutting his eyes tight. You gently cup his cheeks, your cool hands a contrast to the warmth of his skin. He smells of salt and seaweed, a familiar scent of the ocean. You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting with a soft, damp touch. You feel the surprise, then the wonder, as his breath catches in his throat. You don't linger, but with a swift movement, you submerge you both under the water.

Kyle felt a rush of something unfamiliar as your lips pressed against his. His eyes were squeezed shut, his senses heightened by the unusual situation. He felt the chill of the water envelop him completely as you pulled him under, the sensation of being submerged sending a jolt of fear through him.

But as quickly as it came, the fear faded, replaced by a sense of calm. He could breathe! It was strange, almost magical, feeling the oxygen fill his lungs without having to break the surface. He opened his eyes, blinking away the stinging saltwater, and saw you before him, your body glowing in the dim light.

You were beautiful, even under the water. Your hair fanned out around you, swirling like tendrils of silk. Your eyes glowed with mischief and joy, reflecting the light from above.

You pull back slowly, watching Kyle's reaction closely. A grin spreads across your face, seeing the awe in his eyes. You reach out, taking his hand in yours, leading him deeper into the water.

Kyle allowed himself to be led, his grip on your hand firm yet gentle. He moved through the water with a grace he hadn't known he possessed, the weightlessness allowing him to move with ease.

He glanced around, taking in the beauty of the underwater world. Fish darted past, their scales shimmering in the light filtering down from above. Corals waved gently, their colours vibrant and alive. The world around them became a blur of colour and movement, but only your presence remained constant. He felt a strange warmth spreading through him, not from the water, but from within. The sensation was overwhelming, intoxicating. It made him forget about the war, about the bloodshed, about the pain. All he cared about was the moment, this singular moment shared with you.

You lead Kyle further into the depths, the world around you growing darker and more mysterious. The pressure increases, adding an element of danger to your adventure. But you're undeterred, pulling him along with a determined look in your eyes.

Eventually, you stop, turning to face him. You place your hands on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. Your own heartbeat quickens, matching his rhythm. You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. In this moment, there's no need for words. Everything is understood between you, communicated through touch and glance. It's a silent promise, a vow sealed under the sea.

Kyle let you guide him, entrusting himself fully to you. As the pressure increased, he felt a thrill run through him, a mix of excitement and apprehension. But he wasn't afraid. Not with you. When they stopped, he looked into your eyes, seeing a depth there he hadn't noticed before. A kind of longing, perhaps? Or was it hope?

His heart pounded in his chest as you placed your hands on him, feeling the wild rhythm of his heart match yours. When you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his, he closed his eyes, savouring the moment. He held you tightly, not wanting to let go.

Your bodies are pressed close together, the slight friction creating a spark of electricity between you. Without warning, you pull back, grabbing his hand once again. You begin to swim upwards, towards the light. Your movements are graceful, powerful, guiding Kyle effortlessly towards the surface.

As they neared the surface, Kyle began to feel the urge to breathe. His lungs burned, craving air. But he waited, holding his breath, trusting you to bring them safely back to the world above. And then, suddenly, they broke through the surface. He gasped, sucking in a lungful of sweet, fresh air. He looked at you, gratitude and admiration shining in his eyes.

You emerge from the water, your body slick with wetness. You turn to Kyle, a triumphant smile on your face. "Pretty cool right?" He nodded, still trying to catch his breath. He looked at you, your body glistening in the moonlight, and he had to admit, it was pretty damn cool. "Unreal," he finally managed to say. He reached out, running his fingers through your wet hair. "I've never... I didn't know..." He shook his head, unable to find the right words.

Kyle moved closer, closing the gap between them. He reached out, tracing a finger down your arm, feeling the smooth skin beneath his touch. He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. He could taste the saltiness of the ocean on your lips, mixed with your unique flavour. It was intoxicating, making him want more. Before he could second guess himself, he kissed you. His lips pressed against yours, soft and seeking. The kiss was hungry, desperate, a reflection of the emotions swirling inside him.

Feeling Kyle's lips on yours sends a jolt through your system, lighting up every nerve ending. You respond eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Your tongue slips past his lips, exploring the warm cavern of his mouth. You can taste the salt on his skin, mingling with the sweetness of his breath. It's a heady combination, one that makes you dizzy with desire. Breaking the kiss, you pull back slightly, looking into Kyle's eyes. There's a hunger there, a need that mirrors your own. And it's a need that you're more than willing to satisfy.

You lean in again, kissing him deeply, losing yourself in the moment.

COD Masterlist

141 Headcanons

Stickers First Words

Captain John Price

Loving Husband pt 1 Loving Husband pt 2 Loving Husband pt 3

Loving Husband pt 4 Loving Husband pt 5

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Na'vi!Ghost

💋

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Paperwork

Grey Joggers

Kyle 'Gas' Garrick

Alejandro Vargas

Beautiful

🏍️

Little thief Mi amor

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

I hate you

König

Games

Thinking about Mermaid!FemReader and Gaz

Not sure where I'd go with it but it's been on my mind constantly

Gaz would definitely court you like old times. Pick you up at the front door dressed in a suit, pay for dinner and insist you have dessert, drive you home and hold your hand as he walks you to your house kind of guy. Buy you roses on his way back from deployment despite his exhaustion and make love to you slow after devouring your home made meal. Take you to the movies and tie a bow in your hair before you leave, letting you stain his lips red with your own. Sing to you as you both dance outside under the stars, cry with you when you find out you’re pregnant for the first time. Gaz is everything a man should be.