#Gaz x reader

[beloveds-embrace]

(a low-effort, self-indulgent post about 141 x sunshine reader with a love for flowers <3)

Moving to a military town had been a gamble. You weren’t military, had no family in the service, and you had no real reason to pick this particular place other than the fact that it was safe, stable, and quiet. The houses were affordable, the people were friendly enough, and you figured you could make a home here. Besides, you were far enough from the base to avoid their early morning drills but close enough to still feel secure.

And it was nice. Really, it was.

The town had its charm. It was small, orderly, and filled with people who were either part of the military or had long grown used to living in the shadow of it.

You just hadn’t expected it to be so… plain.

Everything was muted, designed for practicality rather than beauty. Row after row of beige houses, identical porches, yards that were neat but uninspired. It felt more like a barracks than a town, and you knew you wouldn’t last long surrounded by such monotony.

So, you changed it.

Within a week of moving in, your porch was transformed into a floral wonderland. Ivy and jasmine vines trailed along the railings, hanging baskets, overflowed with cascading petunias, swung from the beams, and the front steps were lined with carefully arranged potted blooms. Roses, marigolds, lavender- anything that could inject some color and life into the dull uniformity of the street.

And the town noticed.

It started small- passersby slowing down, lingering in front of your house, knocking to ask if they can take pictures. Then came the comments at the local market.

“Did you see the new house on [] Street? The one covered in flowers?”

“I thought I was dreaming- looked like something out of a storybook!”

“Oh, that’s her place. She’s always out there, tending to them. Such a sweet thing, always smiling.”

And then came the soldiers.

One morning, while you were watering your newest additions- lilies this time- a group of soldiers on their way to base slowed in front of your house. Their conversation died off, replaced by muttered confusion.

“Didn’t know we had a damn botanical garden in town.” One of them said, adjusting the strap of his gear bag.

“Are those-” Another squinted at your newest arrangement. “Does she change them?”

“She does,” a woman in the group confirmed; you had seen her before, you were sure. “Saw her planting new ones last week. Honestly, it’s nice.”

You smiled to yourself, pretending not to notice as they carried on their way.

But it didn’t stop there.

Another soldier stopped during his run, hands on his hips as he took in your porch. “Hell of a setup.” He commented, glancing at you.

“Thank you!” You beamed, wiping your dirt-streaked hands on your shorts. “Wouldn’t want the town looking too drab, now would we?”

His lips twitched. “Well, you’re succeeding.”

More and more soldiers began to take notice. Some just passed by with lingering glances, others stopped to admire the work. A few even asked for gardening advice- one particularly flustered private admitted he wanted to impress his girlfriend with a flower arrangement but had no idea where to start. You happily helped him pick out a selection, even wrote him a little care guide.

It wasn’t just the passing soldiers, either.

Older women in town would stop by just to chat about your arrangements, some even bringing over cuttings from their own gardens. Parents would pause during walks, their children pointing excitedly at the bright flowers and fairy lights you had strung along the porch. The local baker started leaving small bags of cookies at your door with notes like, Your flowers made my morning brighter!

And then there was Task Force 141, as they’d eventually introduce themselves to you.

The first time you caught Captain John Price standing on your sidewalk, arms crossed as he stared at your house, you thought you were in trouble. He had the kind of presence that demanded respect- commanding, observant, the weight of experience in every movement.

“You lost?” you teased anyways, adjusting a pot of marigolds, and hoping he wouldn’t consider you disrespectful.

Price huffed a quiet laugh, eyes flicking between the vines, the flowers, the fairy lights. “No. Just… wasn’t expecting this.” He gestured vaguely at the floral explosion around you.

“Well,” you grinned. “I refuse to live somewhere that looks like a training camp. You are the soldiers, not me.”

That had been the start of it.

Soap was the next to visit. He showed up a few days later, leaning against your railing as he inspected a cluster of bright yellow sunflowers. “Got any of those that’ll survive my terrible luck?”

You hummed, then handed him a small, sturdy succulent. “Try not to kill it.”

Then came Gaz, who always claimed he was “just passing through” but somehow always found himself near your house. He asked questions- what flowers worked best for balconies? His mum has a love for tending to flowers as well. Did you have any recommendations for someone who had never taken care of a plant in his life?

Regardledd, you happily enjoyed chatting with him, and he left with a small potted fern, promising to send updates.

And then there was Ghost.

Ghost never exactly visited, but you saw him. Once, when you were rearranging your display and muttering about getting new soil, you spotted him standing across the street, arms folded as he observed your work. He didn’t say anything- just gave a barely perceptible nod before disappearing back into the shadows.

But the next morning, a heavy bag of high-quality soil rested against your porch steps. No note. No explanation.

But from what the others had told you of him… you knew who it was from.

The townsfolk had opinions about that, too.

“That group’s been sniffing around your place an awful lot,” Mrs. Holloway, the town baker, noted one morning as she handed you a fresh loaf of bread. “You got yourself a security detail, dear?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think they just like the flowers.”

The butcher, a gruff man who had lived in the town longer than anyone, grunted in agreement. “Good. Those boys need something nice to look at.”

Even the local barista took notice. “Gaz came in the other day asking if we had any floral-themed drinks,” she giggled, leaning in close to you. “I swear, he’s trying to impress you.”

Ultimately, the town adored what you were doing. Where once there had been dull uniformity, now there was life. People started adding their own touches- small flower pots, window boxes, even a few hanging baskets inspired by yours. The air felt lighter, more welcoming.

And the 141?

They had seen the worst the world had to offer. They had fought in places where beauty was a distant memory, where survival took precedence over everything else.

Yet, somehow, you- sunshine incarnate, with dirt-streaked hands and a smile that could brighten even the darkest day- had managed to burrow into their hardened hearts.

[goatgoesmbe]

the (real) reason Price kept you a secret

[lay-z]

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Something that has been on my mind.

Taskforce 141 with a smol reader who can sleep anywhere because she just fits into all the small spaces around the base and everyday it's a game between the taskforce on where they find the reader dozing off on the base! 🙈

Hope you have a good day! 😽

The Great Task Force 141 Hide-and-Seek Champion

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Tiny!Reader

Warnings: Mild language, ridiculous amounts of fluff, protective 141, jealousy, cuddling

Author's Note: i tried making this poly. You might be able to see it if you squint so… yeah :)

Summary: You have an uncanny ability to sleep anywhere. Thanks to your small size, you manage to squeeze into places no one expects, turning the base into your personal nap zone. At first, it was a game—finding you before Price lost his patience. But slowly, things change. Now, the boys aren’t just looking for you—they’re making sure you’re safe, warm, and taken care of. And maybe… just maybe… they’re realizing they don’t just want to find you. They want to keep you.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Day 1: The Supply Closet

"Where the hell is Mouse?"

Price’s voice echoed through the barracks, already laced with exasperation. It had only been an hour since they'd last seen you. An hour. And you’d already vanished.

Gaz, standing casually by the doorway, sipped his tea. “Check the supply closet.”

Soap narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell would she be in the—”

Ghost, moving like a man far too used to this, didn’t wait for the debate. He walked straight to the supply closet, gripped the handle, and pulled it open.

There you were.

Curled up on one of the metal shelves, wedged between a stack of MREs and a pile of folded tarps. Your cheek was pressed against a plastic-wrapped ration pack, arms tucked under your head like a damn cat.

Soap stared. “Yer kiddin’.”

Price sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "How the hell do you find this comfortable?"

You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before sleepily muttering, “Warm.”

Gaz snorted. “Comfortable, Mouse?”

A small nod. “Mm.”

Ghost studied you in silence, then turned and walked away.

Soap gawked. "We’re just leaving her here?"

Ghost shrugged. “She’ll wake up eventually.”

Price sighed. He wasn’t paid enough for this.

——

Day 5: The First Shift in the Game

It started small.

The first time Soap found you tucked into an abandoned supply box, he huffed out a laugh, shook his head—and left his jacket over you.

The next time, Gaz found you curled up under a desk and quietly slid his extra hoodie beneath your head.

Price, despite all his grumbling, was the one leaving snacks.

And Ghost? He never woke you. Never disturbed you. But he stood guard.

The others didn’t notice at first. But after a few days, Soap started eyeing him.

"Y’know, mate," he smirked, "fer someone who acts like he don’t care, you sure stand ‘round a lot whenever Tiny’s sleepin’."

Ghost didn’t react. Didn’t even blink.

But the next morning, when you woke up in your favorite nap spot, there was a blanket over you.

——

Day 12: The Wrong Soldier Found You First

This was not part of the game.

Normally, it was them who found you. Normally, you’d wake up to soft teasing, grumbling, or just being carried away in Soap’s arms.

But today?

Today, some random soldier found you first.

It was innocent at first.

The guy had walked into the break room, noticed your small form curled up in the corner, and let out a snicker.

"Christ, does she ever actually work?"

The temperature dropped.

The conversation across the room stopped.

The soldier barely had time to react before four very dangerous men turned to look at him.

Ghost’s voice was low. Cold. "What did you just say?"

Soap moved first, stepping closer—a little too close. "Say it again, mate."

Gaz threw an arm around your shoulders, very pointedly shifting you away from the guy.

And Price? Price just gave the final nail in the coffin.

“She’s with us.”

The soldier left.

Quickly.

——

Day 20: The Final Nap

At this point, Price was done.

"Alright," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "Where the hell is she now?"

Soap groaned. "We've checked the barracks, the mess hall, the damn armory—"

Gaz cut in. "—and all the lockers."

Ghost, silent as ever, merely looked up.

The team followed his gaze.

And there, sticking out of an open vent, were a pair of very familiar boots.

Soap wheezed. “Oh, no bloody way!”

Gaz just stared. “I don’t even wanna know how she got up there.”

Price turned on his heel and walked away.

“I don’t care anymore,” he announced. “If she falls, she falls.”

Ghost crossed his arms. “She’ll come down eventually.”

Soap grinned. “God, I love this game.”

——

Day 27: The End of the Game

They weren’t expecting to find you here.

Ghost stopped in the doorway first.

Soap nearly bumped into him before looking past and freezing.

Gaz, coming up behind them, just blinked. “Well… shit.”

There you were.

Curled up in Ghost’s bed.

And not just curled up—wrapped in his blanket, half-buried under the heavy black comforter, nuzzled into his damn pillow.

Ghost just stared.

Soap broke first. He grinned. “Oh, this is rich.”

Price, arriving last, sighed. "At this point, she’s not hiding anymore. She’s just making a statement."

Ghost finally moved forward, stepping to the edge of the bed. He tugged at the blanket.

Nothing.

You made a soft, grumpy noise, burrowing deeper.

Soap snorted. “Mate, she just claimed yer bed.”

Gaz smirked. "Might as well get in."

Ghost glared.

Price, done with all of them, turned to leave. “You deal with it.”

Ghost exhaled through his nose before sitting on the bed.

The shift in weight made you stir, eyes cracking open.

"...Ghost?"

He hummed.

You blinked sleepily at him before mumbling, "...Warm."

Soap grinned. "Y’know, mate, if ye just let her sleep with ye, we wouldn’t ‘ave to find her all the time."

Ghost stared.

And, to everyone’s surprise…

He laid down.

Didn’t move you. Didn’t wake you. Just shifted so you weren’t alone.

Soap gawked. “No bloody way.”

Gaz smirked. “I think she wins.”

Ghost just closed his eyes.

Fine.

She wins.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[quarterlifekitty]

weaknesses: your cooking

König was on watch with you late one night, and you insisted upon filling the air with a bit of conversation– said you needed it to stay awake. You end up asking him lots of questions that night, including all of his favorite foods and drinks. He has trouble answering, he’s never had to come up with this much information about himself, but you don’t mind.

“Do you have a favorite dessert? Mine is lemon meringue pie,” you say with a sweet little smile. It makes him realize how cute you are. That, outside of your uniforms, a cute girl is talking to him. It makes him panic a little, such that he can only bring himself to respond with a quiet me too. 

He had no idea what his favorite dessert was when you asked. He wasn’t even sure he particularly enjoyed desserts at all, honestly. He’s hoping you forget about this embarrassing exchange, really. But you don’t.

You’re stationed in Switzerland when next it comes up. You proudly come back to your accommodations with a little box from a bakery. “I saw this in town today and remembered that you liked meringue too! So I got one, if you wanted to share it with me?”

He just nods. And it’s the best fucking dessert he’s ever had. Which has little to do with how the desert itself tastes. It becomes the first dessert he learns how to make at home, and he makes his best yet when you’re celebrating moving in together. It’s when he’s feeding it to you that he finally comes clean– when you’d asked him his favorite dessert, he’d never even eaten lemon meringue pie before.

Gaz takes incredibly good care of himself. He detests getting sick, maybe more than anything else. It’s just so annoying, and it totally ruins his momentum– throws him off his groove. So he very very rarely gets sick, and is in fact often disgustingly bright, healthy, and energetic. 

Gaz also comes from a home that had amazing food. His standards are, understandably, quite high. A piece of his soul leaves with every MRE he consumes. Which is why his favorite food from you is such a surprise.

It’s during the infancy of your relationship. You’ve been on a few dates. Exploratory, probing, trying to deduce if this is love or just the symptoms of it. He’s on the fence about telling you he’s fallen ill– it’s a little awkward, isn’t it? Partners are supposed to take care of each other in times like that, but he’s not sure you’re ready to be called his partner, much less be around him when he’s a germ factory. But he ends up telling you, if only not to look like he’s ignoring you if he slips into another death-nap while you’re texting.

You do end up coming over, despite all his warnings, all of the easy outs he provides you with. Get him a fresh gatorade before busying yourself in his kitchen.

You come back with a steaming mug that he doesn’t recognize. You say you brought it from home– that it’s your special mug you like to use when you feel icky. It’s got wisteria painted on the side with the scientific name in script next to it, and a little silver spoon with a teddy bear on the end is sticking out of it.

He takes the mug gratefully but still a little cautious– he doesn’t really know all that much about your cooking, and he’ll readily admit that his parents ruined the standard.

He looks down in it to see oatmeal. A bit of cinnamon dusted on, a golden swirl of honey going through it. Just a little bit of cardamom. 

He used to hate oatmeal when he was a kid, but he finishes the mug in record time and asks if you’ll make more. It’s just so soft and hot– gentle on his aching stomach and sore throat, the heat and cinnamon spice clearing up his sinuses a little bit. The sweetness is perfect and comforting as it sticks to the roof of his mouth.

Nowadays he keeps up the same wellness regimen, but he does almost look forward to getting sick, because it means you’ll make oatmeal for him.

When sharing a safehouse with Soap, there’s one inevitable constant: the whining. He always finds something to whinge about, just to ease his own boredom. It’s never about the conditions, having to sleep on shitty mattresses on floors, having to trek 10 miles through the dark and fog to even get there– it’s always about something stupid.

Girl who hasn’t texted him back. His deployment making him miss out on a limited edition thing he would’ve wanted to buy. That during his last leave a girl ghosted him after he barked during sex. Come to think of it, it was usually about his girl problems.

But this time, it was that he happened to be deployed on his birthday. Not that he’s sore about spending time with the taskforce, you’re his best mates in the world– but there’s not much celebration to be had out here.

“Could do with a fockin’ cake, ye ken?”

You were taken onto this squad for your adaptability. You’re brilliant when it comes to improvisation. And there’s a couple of shelf stable things left around in the cabinets here, although dubious.

So what are you able to bang together with flour, sugar, and the liquid from a can of chickpeas in some tin cups on top of a butane stove on its last legs?

That’s right. A fockin’ cake. Is it good? God no. The texture is weird as hell and it’s somehow dry on the outside but completely raw in the middle. But Soap smiles the entire time he’s eating it, and god knows he’s finishing the whole damned thing.

He was always of the mind that it’s rude not to finish your wife’s cooking.

It’s Price’s first holiday with you, and his expectations are low. Not as in he doesn’t think you’ll be lovely and amazing, he most certainly does, but his whole squad is coming over and preparing for that is a pretty big undertaking. So if it’s something a little more casual, maybe a bit of potluck, he’ll be perfectly fine with that. His ex used to order catering and tell the guests that she’d cooked it all herself, so anything is a step up from that in his book.

You stun him absolutely stupid when you not only plan a spectacular, full holiday dinner, but you make his boys help out– commanding them in the kitchen the same way he does in the field. Well, maybe a bit less forgiving. You’re less tender-hearted than him when the moistness of the roast in the oven is on the line. Everything is delicious, full of love, and satisfying beyond belief.

But his true fulfillment comes about a year later when his soldiers are awkwardly talking around their plans for the holidays, trying to nudge him into inviting them over again to make dinner with his missus. Muppets, the lot of them.

A lot of Ghost’s concept of vegetables come from army food, school cafeterias, and all-you-can-eat buffets. Typically frozen, only to be thawed and overcooked to an ungodly degree. On the rare occasion he had a half-decent meal with a vegetable side, it was typically covered in butter, cheese, or finely chopped bacon. Sometimes a combination of the three.

You’re a hookup he falls back on a lot when he’s on leave. Keeps him away from his empty apartments and crowded mind. This time, he comes straight to your place when he lands, wanting to lose himself in your cunt more than anything else. And you’re accommodating, you don’t have anything better to do and he doesn’t leave you wanting.

Usually he makes himself scarce pretty quickly, but this time he finds that maybe he was still running on adrenaline when he came in, and now that it’s wearing off with his post-orgasm high, his entire body is killing him. He feels like lead. And he hates that his struggle is plain to see.

“You can just stay, y’know. S��not like I’ll be expecting a wedding ring in the morning or anything. I’m just gonna go make dinner.”

He’s too tired to protest. Falls asleep just about as soon as you’re out of the room, despite very much intending to get the hell up and pass out somewhere that isn’t your apartment. He wakes up to an amazing smell.

Your dinner isn’t complicated. You’d just planned to have dinner by yourself, so it wasn’t fancy or anything. Grilled some salmon, put it over rice with some unagi sauce, steamed some fresh veggies for the side. Simon just barely has the energy to amble over to your kitchen table when it’s clear he won’t be leaving the premises any time soon.

When he’s not eating food that’s mass produced and shitty, he expects to be eating the kind of battered and fried pub faire that sits like a stone and ravages the digestive tract.

This may very well be the first time he’s eaten a meal that was genuinely good that didn’t make him feel at least a little bit disgusting afterwards. And god– it’s like it’s his first time tasting a vegetable for real. Why didn’t anyone tell him they could be this way?

You’re quite frankly shocked when you wake up in the morning and Simon is not only still there– he wants to take you out to breakfast. 

The truth is that he got a pretty remarkably good night’s rest, but in the wee hours while he was waiting for you to wake up? He was planning. The jump from friends with benefits to marriage won’t really be so difficult if he can play his cards right.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 47: The Reunion

Summary: You get to spend some time with your family after a surprise reunion

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,363 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, a/b/o, Alternate Universe, slight angst, emotions, language, family stuff, a little rehashing of the reader's past

A/N: Well, here it is. I'm not very proud of this one but I just don't have it in me to try to do more. This chapter has drained me so much. I didn't think it would be this hard to write it when I was planning out this part. Oh well. Also things do get a bit descriptive when it comes to the reader's age for plot reasons.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

Sugar cookies.

She smells like sugar cookies. Just like you remember.

The scent floods your nose, seeping into the back of your brain, seeping into memories that you thought you had forgotten. Warmth fills your body, flowing through your veins to your limbs, from the top of your head to your toes. It’s cold outside, but you can’t feel it, too caught up in the moment to care that you’re in nothing but a t-shirt.

Her arms are warm around you, squeezing you in an embrace so tight it almost hurts. You’d never complain. You want her to squeeze you tighter, never let you go.

Tears wet her jacket, soaking into the fabric as you desperately cling to her like she might disappear any second. It hardly feels real, but she is real. She’s really here. She’s really with you.

“Mama…” You sob, fingers gripping her jacket, clinging to her in desperation.

You thought you’d never see her again. You thought she was gone forever from your life.

Now she’s here. She’s really here.

“I know,” She sniffles, crying just as hard as you are. Both of you are shaking, clinging to each other. “I know, baby, I’m right here.”

No words come to your mind as you stand there, hugging your mother for the first time in years. You thought you’d never get to see her again, that the image of her heartbroken face as you were ripped away would be your last memory of her. You’d spend the rest of your life wondering where she was, if she was okay. You’d wonder about the rest of your siblings, what became of their lives. You’d be alone, cut off from all of them, just as your father wanted.

He didn’t get what he wanted in the end.

Something about that feels satisfying.

Your mother slowly pulls away from you, cupping your face in her hands. “Look at you.” She says, still teary-eyed. Her thumbs are soft, gentle as they wipe the tears from your cheeks. “My little girl all grown up.”

She still looks just as you remember. There’s still the warmth behind her eyes she never lost, not even in the worst of times. Some might call omegas soft, weak, vulnerable, but you know better now. There’s a strength to omegas overlooked by most, a strength you’ve always acquainted to your mother. She never lost any of her strength, even after she lost you.

“I missed you.” You say, leaning into her touch.

“I missed you too.” She says, giving you a soft smile, unchanged from what you remember. “More than you know.” She releases your face to wipe the tears off of her own.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” You say, wiping your nose.

“We thought the same.” She says, turning slightly to the man that had accompanied her.

“Jeremy?” You blink in disbelief, staring past her.

“Hey, sis.” He says, opening his arms.

You hug your brother tightly, breathing in his strong scent. Woody and warm like a campfire. Just like you remember. Jeremy’s only two years older than you, the brother you were closest with due to being so close in age. Though you missed all of your siblings, Jeremy was who you missed the most. Despite being an alpha, he wasn’t like your dad or your older brothers. He was kinder, softer, less willing to bend to your father’s expectations.

It’s a relief to see him. Very much a relief.

You pull away, staring up at them both. You can hardly believe it. They’re really here. They’re really with you again.

“I missed you both. So much.” You say, blinking back tears again. You’ve moved into the house, your pack making themselves scarce after introductions were made. You’re seated on the couch in the living area with your mother, Jeremy taking the chair.

“We missed you too.” Jeremy says. “You have no idea how much of a relief it is to see you’re alright.”

“We tried to contact the institute after your father died, but they wouldn’t give up any information.” Your mother says.

“Dad died?” You blink in disbelief. You had a feeling, considering the fact your mother was here at all, but hearing it was something else entirely.

“Mhm.” Your mother says, taking your hand. “Almost two years ago. It was when your youngest brother Darren presented as an omega. He got so mad, ranting and raving and carrying on. You could see it in his face, how worked up he was getting, then he just...dropped. A massive heart attack, the doctors said.”

You should feel sad. You should be upset at the news of your father’s death, but in the end, there’s a sense of relief there. He’s gone from the world, from your lives, your mother’s life. His steel hand and influence have died and with it all the abuse you endured. A deep part of you almost feels glee that he got what he deserved.

“It was a long time coming.” Your mother continues. “He was never the same after he sent you away. I think deep down he regretted it, but he never would have admitted to it. His health declined steadily. He had to retire due to heart issues but you know him, he refused to listen to the doctors. There couldn’t be anything wrong with him, just like there couldn’t be anything wrong with the family. I thought he was going to go when your youngest sister Sarah presented as an omega.”

“He sent her to an institute too, didn’t he?” You ask quietly.

Your mother nods, tears gathering in her eyes. You squeeze her hand, your heart aching for your little sister.

“We tried to get her back after he died, but...you know how institutes are.” Jeremy says.

“Yeah,” You say, leaning your head on your mother’s shoulder. “Maybe someday soon we’ll get to see her again. I mean, you found me after all this time.”

“Well, in a way you found us.” Your mother says, kissing the top of your head.

She’s not wrong. John found her for you. Even though it was Kate that had brought them, you know it was John that put in the request.

“What happened after dad died?” You ask, curious as to how things got to where they are now.

“I left not long after dad sent you away.” Jeremy says. “I couldn’t stand that he did that to you. I went no contact with him but stayed in contact with mom. I was the first one she called after it happened.”

“I kept Darren with me.” Your mother says. “I wasn’t going to lose another child to an institute. I moved in with Jeremy after the service. David and Brandon both rescinded that responsibility. They’re both still in the military with their own packs now. They didn’t want me to still be in that life. So Jeremy took me in.”

“I refused to join the military.” Jeremy says. “I didn’t want to wind up just like dad. I went to college and now I work in marketing.”

“You always were good at convincing people to do things.” You say jokingly.

Jeremy laughs. “I was. Still am too.”

“Jeremy has his own pack too.” Your mother says proudly.

“Did you marry Jane like you said you were going to?” You ask playfully.

Jeremy gets a bashful look on his face. “Yeah.”

“No way!” You blink in surprise. Jane was your brother’s high school crush. He talked nonstop about her, constantly regaling you with stories about how she looked each day and how smart she was. You had no idea they had even started dating.

“I’m so happy for you.” You say, giving your brother a big smile.

“Thank you.” He says, beaming with pride.

“What about the others?” You ask curiously.

“Hannah went to college,” Your mother starts. “I think your dad was willing to be a little more lenient with her being a female alpha. She’s a CEO now.”

“She always was bossy.” You say.

Your mother chuckles. “She was. Alex got into West Point. Despite your father’s distaste for the Army he was proud of him.”

“Little genius boy.” You say, remembering just how smart your little brother was from very early on.

“He is that.” Jeremy says. “Darren still lives with us. We’re giving him a chance to take his time in finding a pack.”

“He deserves it after everything that happened with you and Sarah.” Your mother says.

“I’m glad he’s getting that chance.” You say honestly. “At least one of us gets a chance to be normal.”

Your mother cups your cheek, giving you a sad smile. “I’m so sorry. I should have fought harder, for both you and Sarah.”

You shake your head, leaning into her touch. “It’s not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. Dad had his mind made up and there was no changing it.” You lean into her, resting your head on her shoulder. “I don’t blame you. I know if it had been your choice, you wouldn’t have done it. Besides, if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have wound up here.”

Your mother rests her cheek against your head. “Are you happy?”

You smile softly. “I am.”

“They seem lovely. I can tell they care about you a lot.”

“They do. They wouldn’t have done this if they didn’t.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Your mother kisses the top of your head. “It’s a relief, knowing you’re well taken care of. I’ve worried about you since the day you presented.”

You smile softly, relief flooding through you. You’d never tell her the truth, at least all of it, about what happened to you. You’re not entirely sure you can. She doesn’t need to know all of the details. All that matters is her knowing you’re happy and well taken care of. That is the truth. You are happy. You are being well taken care of. Sure there have been bumps and hurdles, but that’s expected. There always would have been those moments regardless of what pack you found yourself in.

You’re just lucky you found yourself in such a good pack. They may be a bit dense and ruled by their jobs, but they are good to you. They’ve made more of an effort over these past couple months than you ever would have expected. Things have changed for the better, and despite everything, you know they will continue to get better.

They’re trying and that’s what matters.

Reuniting you with your family shows you that the most.

The nine of you go out to dinner in town that night. The restaurant was mostly empty, since it’s not tourist season, but you can hardly complain. You know your pack was relived as well. Despite the fact Shepherd is dead, that instinctual need to constantly look over their shoulders is still deeply ingrained in their heads. They can never be too careful, too cautious when it comes to you and your safety.

It should annoy you, but instead you feel charmed by their deep desire to keep you safe.

Your mother and brother are staying in town for a few days. You can hardly contain your excitement at the prospect of getting so much time with them. This half a day would be enough to last you a lifetime.

Her scent still lingers in the air when you return to the cottage. It has comfort and warmth spreading through your entire body. Your mom really was here, she really is here in England with you.

It feels almost surreal.

You sink down onto the couch, curling up in a ball, pressing your face into the pillow your mother had been leaning against. Her scent floods into your brain, your omega purring contently. It takes you back to the simple times when you were still a pup, being held by your mother, her gentle touches when you scraped a knee, her protective embrace when your brothers got too rough. The way she’d tuck you in and kiss your head even when you grew into a teenager. She did it for all of her kids, even though your brothers complained about it when they got older.

Tears blur your eyes again and you squeeze them closed, pressing your face into the pillow.

“Ye alright?” Johnny asks, standing near the fireplace. He had been halfway through lighting it again.

You sniffle, nodding into the pillow.

“What’s wrong?” Kyle asks, his fingers brushing over your head.

Your response is muffled by the pillow, inaudible to their ears.

“What?” Kyle asks, leaning closer.

You turn your head to free your face just a little. “I’m just so happy.” You cry.

“Aww, love.” Kyle coos, brushing his hand over your head. “I can only imagine how this must all feel.”

You sniffle, resting your cheek against the pillow. “I never thought I’d see her again.”

“We would have found a way for you to see her again.” John says, taking a seat on the other couch, facing you. “I’m just sorry it took this long to happen.”

A small smile forms on your face, but the tears keep falling. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Well, I at least understand a little.” John says, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You deserve to have your family in your life.”

Kyle continues stroking your head, sinking his fingers into your hair to massage your scalp.

“Too bad your dad’s dead. Would have liked to kill him myself.” Simon grumbles, sitting next to John on the couch.

You can’t help but laugh, morbid as the statement is. You don’t doubt your pack would have gone after your father given the chance. Once more showing their desire to protect you. There is a part of you that’s glad your father is dead. It’s what he deserves after everything he did to you and your family. Your mother is finally free and living happily without being in his shadow. Part of you feels sad, though. He was your father and deep down you cared for him. He was family after all, no matter how badly he treated you. As much as you wished he could have suffered, deep down you’re glad he died quickly.

You know you wouldn’t have gotten this chance had he still been around.

You also don’t doubt your pack would make good on their promises.

It shouldn’t fill you with glee at the thought of your pack being so protective, yet you can’t deny your omega preening happily at the thought.

It’s late. You’re tired yet you’re far too worked up from the excitement of the day to sleep. There’s a happiness, a content feeling deep in your soul. For the first time in weeks, months even, things feel like they should, like you’ve dreamed they would. Lying in your bed at the institute, you were guilty of daydreaming, picturing what life would be like with a pack, if they’d be nice and let you see your family again, if you’d be well taken care of.

What you got was far from what you had imagined, but despite all of the hurdles you’ve had to overcome, you’re beginning to fell more and more like you’ve finally made those dreams a reality. You have a pack that loves you, even if they are bad at showing it sometimes, you have your family again, you’re well taken care of.

You may not be able to get anything you ask for, but still they would walk over fire for you. They have, in a way. They went to such great lengths to keep you safe, such great lengths to save you when you were in danger, such great lengths to allow you to heal in a place you’d find ideal. Even John leaving when he did no longer hurts quite so much. You know he did it for a reason, a good reason. He’d have left no matter what. He had to do it. He had to ensure Shepherd really was dead, otherwise he’d never be able to truly rest and allow you to live your life as you deserve. As he thinks you deserve.

You were well taken care of while he was gone.

Your hand lifts to trace your fingers over the soft scars on your left shoulder. Given to you just over a year ago now. How time has flown yet how it has dragged on.

The hand shifts over to the right side, feeling the rough and ragged skin from the still-healing mark on your right shoulder. How far things have progressed in such a short amount of time.

How far things have come from where you were a year ago. You never thought you’d be here, but then again, laying in your bed at the institute, you could have never imagined this would be how your life would play out.

You truly are lucky.

Footsteps thud quietly on the steps, breaking the silence in the house. You hold your breath, listening as they get closer to your door. You pull your blankets up to your chin, watching. There’s nothing to be afraid of, yet you can’t stop the nervous twisting in your stomach. No one got in, no one is coming to hurt you. The threats against your lives are gone, wiped out. You’re free from that worry now.

There’s nothing that can hurt you.

The door slowly opens, darkness seeping in through the slowly growing gap opening itself up like a mouth waiting to devour you. A familiar face appears through the darkness, illuminated by the soft glow of your nightlight.

“Still up?”

You nod, slowly relaxing and lowering the blanket from your face. “Can’t sleep.”

John hums, slipping in before closing the door behind him. “Any particular reason?”

“Just thinking too much.” You say. “As usual.”

He smiles softly, lowering himself down on on the edge of the bed. “Your mind does like to wander.”

“It’s a character flaw, really.”

“That’s what Simon would say.” He leans on his arm, staring down at you. “How are you?”

“Fine.” You say, shrugging. “Happy.”

“Good.” He smiles. “I’m glad you feel that way. If it were possible I’d have it so you’d felt that way from the start. But the dedication to our jobs blinded us to the reality of the situation. When you spend years dedicating your life to the machine of war, it’s easy to forget how much it affects those around you.” He reaches for your hand. “It wasn’t fair to you, but we can’t undo it.”

“We can only move forward.” You say, quoting what Dr. Keller used to say.

“We’re going to do better by you going forward.” He says, brushing his fingers across the back of your hand. Just as rough and calloused as you remember them being despite the fact he hasn’t handled a weapon regularly or trained regularly in months. “I’m going to do better by you going forward.”

You hum at his words, shifting your hand to press against his palm. His hands are so big compared to yours, his fingers so long. Hands that have done unspeakable things in the name of keeping the world safe. Hands that have wrought violence against other humans, hands that have killed.

Hands that have cradled you so delicately.

“You know you could join me in here.” You say, lacing your fingers with his.

“Wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”

“Why not?” You ask, releasing his hand to press yourself up to sit.

“I know you’re not exactly happy with me.”

“Well, that’s true. But reuniting me with my family does give you a leg up from where you were.” You say, pulling the blankets to the side. “But it still doesn’t forgive you entirely.”

“Fair enough.” He says, maneuvering himself so he’s next to you.

You roll yourself so you’re next to him, staring up at him as he lays on his back. He shifts his arm over your head, offering. You take that offer, wiggling up against his chest. You wrap an arm around him, squeezing him gently. He’s softer than he used to be. He’s always been soft, but he’s lost more of his muscle mass in the time away from the military. All of them have gotten softer, something you can’t bring yourself to complain about. You like them like this, well fed and relaxed. There’s something so domestic about it, such a contrast to the harsh sterility of life on base.

John sighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You press your nose into his chest, breathing in the deep, damp earthy scent of him. It sinks into your mind, starting to quiet the thoughts racing through your head. They dampen to a dull drone, your eyes slipping closed as you lay there in your alpha’s warm embrace.

The wind whips around you, blowing salty air around you. It’s sunny out, but the wind is cold coming right off the ocean. You stand right on the edge of the wet sand, watching the waves flow in and out.

“It’s beautiful here.” Your mother says.

“It is.” You say, staring out at the horizon in the distance.

“You seem happy.”

“I am happy.” You turn to glance at her, meeting her gaze. “I’m very happy.”

“Good.” She pats your hand where it rests on her arm. “I can rest knowing you’re somewhere you’re well taken care of and happy.” She goes quiet for a moment, staring out at the sea. “They really love you. I can tell just by looking at them. Those boys would burn down the world for you.”

“You think so?” You ask, even though you already know she’s telling the truth.

“Of course.” She says, squeezing your hand. “I always hoped you’d come to be free of the military, but of course we can’t always control what happens. I suppose it was wrong of me to judge every service member based on those your father chose to surround himself with.”

“He did have a bad taste in friends.” You murmur. You’d never tell her about Phil and how you were reunited. You’re not sure you could tell her.

“Birds of a feather…”

You hum, watching the waves flow in and out across the sand.

“What happens after your vacation is over? Do you go back to living on base?”

“I suppose so.” You say, swallowing thickly. You’ve been trying not to think that far ahead, but now that Shepherd is gone, there’s nothing forcing your pack to stay at the cabin. You’ve always assumed as soon as things were safe, they’d go back as soon as they could. It’s their livelihoods, their life missions to serve in the military. No matter how much the idea makes you twitch, you know in the end it’s not up to you. You’ll follow them like you’re supposed to. It’s not like you have any other choice.

If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll get a house close to base and let you live a semi-normal life outside of the barracks. You’re not sure you could ever return there after everything that’s happened.

Then again, you might not have much of a choice.

“What would you want to do, if you had the choice?” She asks you, breaking you out of your thoughts.

What would you do? Your instinct is to follow them, all of your institute training tells you to be happy wherever they take you, to make a life out of what you’re given and ignore what you would prefer.

“I’d stay here forever.” You say, voicing exactly what it is you want. You’d live in that small cabin for the rest of your life if it meant you got to live somewhere like here.

“And they know that?” She asks.

You turn your head to glance back at them. Simon is lurking like a shadow, watching you as he leans against a rock. Ever attentive and watchful.

“You should tell them.” She continues. “You have a good pack. I think they’d be more willing to listen to what you want than you think.”

You turn back around, leaning over to rest your head against her shoulder. She is right. You can voice your thoughts and desires to them. Maybe this time they’ll listen and take you into consideration.

“Tell them.” She leans down, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t get stuck like I did.”

“We brought some stuff to cook, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not in the slightest. Make yourselves at home.” John steps aside for your mother so your mother and brother can enter.

“What did you get?” You ask, stepping up to them to try and look in the bags.

“Eager little thing.” Your mother says, wrapping an arm around you. “Thought I might make some of your favorites.”

“Aw, mom you don’t have to do that.” You say as she guides you towards the kitchen.

“I know, but I want to.” She kisses the side of your head before releasing you. “What am I here for if not to spoil you a little.”

Jeremy sets the bags on the kitchen table before starting to unload them. You pick up a tin of cocoa, staring at it for a moment.

“Mom, are you making brownies?” You ask.

“Of course.” She says. “They are your favorite.”

You can’t stop the tears pooling in your eyes as you hug her again, holding her tightly. “I have missed your brownies.”

“Brownies and enchiladas.”

“Mom you don’t have to do this.” You say.

“Of course I do. I want to spoil you while I can.” She says, running a hand over your head.

“At least let me help you.” You say.

“I suppose I can allow that.” She says, winking at you.

The two of you head into the kitchen, getting started on cooking. Jeremy takes a seat at the table, striking up a conversation with Johnny.

“That could be dangerous.” You say, glancing at them.

“Let them have their fun.” Your mother says with a smile.

The two of you continue to cook, talking quietly while the conversation at the table gets more and more animated. Both Johnny and Jeremy are speaking loudly and laughing, and paired with the sounds of you and your mother cooking, are making the cottage seem more and more domestic. It reminds you a lot of life before the institute, at home with your family. Your brothers always loud and rambunctious, the younger kids playing in the living room, the TV playing some show in the background while your mother cooks away in the kitchen.

It has a warm feeling spreading through you, this glimpse of normalcy.

What you wouldn’t give to have this all the time.

“Smells good.” Dr. Keller says, entering the kitchen.

“Thank you. You’re more than welcome to have some once it’s done.” Your mother says.

“Thank you for the offer, but I’m actually heading into town for the evening.” She says.

“To see Ashley?” You ask, wiggling your brows.

She gets an almost bashful look before clearing her throat. “Yes.”

You grin. “Don’t have too much fun!”

Dr. Keller gives you a smile before stepping out of the kitchen.

“Ashley is Kyle’s sister.” You explain to your mother. “Her and Dr. Keller have a...thing going on.”

“I see.” Your mother says with a smile. “I can only imagine what Ashley must be like after seeing Kyle.”

“They’re both absolute angels blessed with good genetics.” You say.

“Lucky them.”

You continue to cook, mixing the brownie batter while your mother pops the enchiladas into the oven. Kyle joins the pair at the table, Simon taking a seat as well, but as usual he stays distant from the conversation. Instead his eyes are on you, watching as you cook with your mother. Sometimes you wish you could sink into his brain and hear his thoughts. Is he thinking about his own family? You know he’s not exactly close with them, or at least he keeps himself at a distance. You’d like to meet his own mother sometime, but you’re not sure he’d be up for that.

You’d like to meet the rest of your pack’s families eventually. Considering you are family to them as their mated omega, it only seems right to meet their families. You don’t know much about their families outside the basics, and it would be fun to get to see what shaped them into being who they are today.

Cooking goes by quickly and before you know it you’re sitting at the table in your usual spot, across from John. The others are squeezed into the small space, your mother and brother on either side of you and Johnny, Simon and Kyle squeezed next to John. It’s a tight fit but it reminds you of home, a full table with delicious food. It makes you miss it, having a big pack surrounding you. A smaller pack is easier to manage, but you do miss the chaos of a big family.

“This might be manna from heaven.” Kyle says, his eyes closed as he swallows another bite of enchilada.

“Fucking delicious.” Johnny moans in agreement.

“Thank you, boys.” Your mother says.

You’ve hardly come up for air, inhaling every bit of food you can. It warms you to your core, the familiar taste of one of your favorite meals growing up. It’s just like you remember, perfect in every way.

Kyle and Johnny insist on doing dishes, the rest of you settling in for tea while the brownies cool.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be here?” Your mother asks John as she sips her tea.

“Not much longer.” John answers. “We have to go back to real life eventually.”

You’re not sure how much John told her. They’d spoken the previous day on the beach for a while, and you’re still curious as to what the conversation had entailed.

“It’s nice here.” Your mother says, looking around the cabin. “Cozy.”

“I’m sure we’d all like to stay here if we could.” John says. “I know someone in particular would.” He gives you a look.

Your face warms and you look down into your teacup bashfully.

“She always did like it when we lived close to the ocean.” Your mother says. “She’d go every day if she could.”

“She still would.” John says. “She’d go in bad weather if we’d let her.”

“Not if it was raining.” You say, trying to defend yourself.

“You sure that would stop you?” John asks, lifting a brow at you.

You try to convince yourself to say yes, but you know he knows you’d go even in the worst weather. Maybe not during a storm as that could be dangerous, but you’d still go and watch it at least for a while. “No,” You admit honestly, lifting your mug to your lips.

The occupants at the table all chuckle at your answer, all of them knowing what it would be. You’d sat outside in the rain enough times they know by now it wouldn’t stop you from doing much of anything.

“I’ll go dish up some brownies.” Your mother says, rising from her seat as Kyle and Johnny finish dishes.

“Let me.” John says, motioning for her to stay seated. It warms your heart a bit, seeing your alpha willing to do something so your mother doesn’t have to.

John dishes out brownies, Kyle helping him carry them to the table for everyone. The sweet smell of them has filled the cottage, hanging in the air making your mouth water. You’re excited, refraining from immediately stuffing your piece in your mouth as soon as it’s in front of you. You’re sure no one would complain, but the last thing you want is to draw attention to yourself in case you cry.

Just smelling them you might.

They’re still warm and gooey in your fingers as you lift the brownie slowly, bringing it to your lips. The sweet, rich flavor explodes on your tongue as you take your first bite, your eyes closing as you savor the taste you’ve been missing for years. You missed having brownies after your last heat and this has just healed that desire ten fold.

You really could cry.

“I’ve never tasted anything so good in my entire life.” Kyle says, earning satisfied groans of agreement around the table. “Don’t tell my mom I said that.”

Your mother chuckles. “Thank you, honey. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I can see now why you’ve been craving brownies, kitten.” Johnny says, his mouth full of chocolate.

“I missed these so much.” You say, taking another bite.

“I’m glad everyone is enjoying them.” Your mother says.

“Fantastic.” John agrees, wiping the chocolate from his fingers with a napkin.

You’re not quite so polite, licking the gooey chocolate from your fingers. A low rumble vibrates in your chest and suddenly your skin prickles. You glance up, finding all of the eyes at the table on you. You lower your hands, clearing your throat. “It was really good.”

“Good.” Your mother runs a hand over your head. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I don’t know how you read in such low light.”

You glance up over your book at John. “Because I’m not old.”

“That’s rude.” He says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m not that old.”

You look him up and down before giving him a look. “Could have fooled me.”

John leans over, wrapping an arm around your waist. “C’mere.” He drags you across the bed to where he’s sitting, making you giggle and drop your book. “Little brat.”

You brush the hair out of your face, staring up at him. There’s a box in his hands, something you hadn’t noticed when he came in.

“Here.” He hands it to you. It’s not very heavy, and taped closed.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Something I think you’ll like.”

You give him a look before opening it. You wrap your fingers around the cold metal, pulling it out of the box.

“A phone?” You ask, turning it in your hands.

“No point to you not having one now.” He shrugs. “This way you can keep contact with your mother.”

You smile, hitting the on button. The screen lights up, already set up of course. You wonder what they downloaded on it before they gave it to you. “Thank you, John. This really means a lot.”

He smiles softly, brushing a hand over your head. “This way we won’t have to worry about you either.”

“Does that mean you’re leaving me by myself now, too?” You ask.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” He says. “You’d be hard pressed to convince Simon to allow that.”

“But there’s no threat anymore.” You say.

“Doesn’t mean something won’t happen in his mind. He’s very protective of his pack, especially you.” John says, brushing his fingers across your cheek. “He’s grown a lot from how he was at the start. I never thought I’d see him go that soft for anyone. Not even Johnny.”

“Johnny can take care of himself.” You say, already having figured out Simon’s thought process. “I can’t. Not fully. Especially not now, so out of practice.”

“We’ll get you back into shape. Not that you’re not still in shape, but back to practicing again.” John says.

Your stomach clenches a bit at his words. That must mean you’re headed back to base soon, back to the way things were before. They’ll continue on with their jobs and you’ll always be the one left behind. It makes you feel disappointed. John voiced how he knew you’d want to stay here, or somewhere like here. You thought maybe that would change his mind, or at least make him think about other possible options.

Looks like you weren’t going to be that lucky.

“It’s been so good seeing you.” Your mother’s voice is muffled in your shoulder as you hug her tightly. “A wonderful gift I’ve been given, having you back.”

“I don’t want you to go.” You mumble into her jacket.

“I know.” She says, pulling away. She cups your face gently. “I wish I could stay here forever, but we have to go back to the real world eventually.”

She’s not wrong. Your time here in this quiet retreat is coming to an end as well. There’s nothing necessitating you stay in hiding anymore. Part of you hates it. Part of you wishes they’d never found Shepherd and you’d have to stay hidden forever. But then you would have never been reunited with your mother.

“Call me.” She continues. “I want to hear about everything.”

“I will.” You say, fighting tears as you stare at her, memorizing her face. It’s the face you remember, albeit a bit older now. Then again, you’re older than she remembers too.

A small smile pulls at her lips, tears gathering in her own eyes. “I love you so much, baby.”

You pull her into one last hug, breathing in her scent to commit it to memory once more. “I love you too.”

She kisses your head before pulling away. She cups your cheek, taking one last look before she steps away. Jeremy takes her place, pulling you into a tight hug.

“It was good to see you, sis.” He says.

“You too.” You say, squeezing him tightly.

He pulls away, patting your head. “Don’t give them too much trouble, alright?”

“I try.” You grin through your tears.

“You need anything, you call alright?” He gives you a pointed look.

“I will.” You nod.

“Good.” He kisses the top of your head, giving you one last squeeze before he heads for the car.

You stand there in the gravel watching it pull away. A couple tears slide down your cheeks, cooled by the light breeze blowing. You’re lucky it isn’t raining, though that wouldn’t have stopped you from standing out here. Warmth presses in against your sides and your back as you stand there, watching the car until it disappears around the bend.

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[hoodiepandaninja16]

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

(I'm not from the Midwest, but I know this is so true).

Been thinking about the 141 boys coming to visit your southern family…

Price ends up out back with your papaw and uncles staring at a riding mower that they haven’t been able to get back up and working. Beer in hand, hip cocked, mimicking their ‘uh-uh’s and ‘yep’s. He tries to help with grilling but your dad won’t let him anywhere near it because “damn brits can’t cook out to save their lives. I’ve seen what y’all eat.”

Ghost gets a little overwhelmed by the women fussing over him. He’s on his third plate of food and your mimi is still loading him up with more mac n cheese because “He’s just such a big boy - he really needs to fill up! Are you sure you’re feeding him enough?” Luckily Simon is a literal human vacuum - a total garbage disposal. He drinks about a pitcher of sweet tea by himself because you can’t tell me that man doesn’t have a deadly sweet tooth. You have to drive home after the food coma they put him in.

Gaz is the decided favorite son-in-law (never mind that you aren’t married yet.) He’s just so polite, happily helping wherever needed. Quick witted and more than prepared to participate in the small town gossip. Giving genuine, dramatic gasps at the news that the preachers son of your family’s rival church took a trip (went to prison). It just makes sense that boy always had a screw loose, after all. He picks up on the cooking easily enough, asking your mom for all her recipes to make both you and her a lovely custom cook book of family recipes.

Soap goes absolutely hog wild on the four wheelers with your cousins. Regaling the younger ones with stories of his ‘adventures’ (pranks on the other 141 members.) He picks up some of your slang for the fun of it. After all, sigogglin’ just works with a Scottish accent so well. Unfortunately he can’t handle the jalapeño corn bread - it’s just too spicy for the poor boy.

[pettysreverie]

Kinda really obsessed with the idea of him becoming super obsessed with you after fucking you…

CW: AFAB!Reader, stalking, obsessive behavior, yandere-esque behavior (if I missed something, pls kindly let me know!)

Like, I imagine that maybe he’s just come back from deployment? Would explain why he’s so starved for a good fuck, ya know?

Probably meets you in a pub (bc duh) and after a few drinks between the two of you, you both decide to go back to his place.

He figures it’s gonna be nothing too big of a deal. Certainly nothing he hasn’t done before.

Who hasn’t taken a bird back from the pub for a good fuck?

But the moment he slides into your cunt, he knows that he’d been wrong.

Whatever he’d been doing before was not fucking. Was not having sex. Because sex with you—with your slutty cunt and those heavenly sounds you make—is bewitching.

As if your cunt is putting him deeper and deeper under a spell with every twitch and clench.

A spell he gladly welcomes.

Your body is so soft and beautiful. And you…you’re so pliant and willing—batting those pretty lashes at him with that dazed, fucked out look in your eyes.

And that’s when the spell cements.

When a flip switches inside of him.

When something…changes.

He grips your ankles and hoists your legs over his shoulders to drive his cock even deeper inside of your quivering heat.

Your back bows off the bed and your hands grapple the sheets, moans tumbling from your kiss swollen lips as your eyes nearly roll all the way back.

“Yer mine. All mine.”And there’s a stutter in his breath as he moans, his hips momentarily stuttering in their otherwise relentless movements. “Say it fer me, love.”

But with the way he’s got you practically folded in half—knees all but bent to your chest with your legs draped over his back—replying to him is the furthest thing from your mind right now.

He angles his hips, driving long and deliciously thick cock directly into your sweet spot over and over again—seemingly determined to drive you insane with pleasure.

Seemingly determined to fuck you positively dumb.

“Say. It.”He grits out, his voice taking on an almost animalistic, growling tone.

There is something so primal about his command. Something about it brings out such a fundamental instinct in you that you cannot help but to comply—to submit.

“Y-Yours…”You manage to utter amongst your incoherent babbling and moaning.

One word.

You only speak one word.

But one word is all he needed to hear.

He fucks you well into the morning. The sun rises, its light shining through the cracks in the curtains by the time he turns you loose and allows you to rest.

And rest you do.

When you wake up, it’s practically evening!

You’re quite embarrassed. But like the gentleman he is, he assures you that he does not mind. In fact, he even offers to pay for your transportation home.

You decline, too embarrassed about your faux pas.

And for you? You assume that, while this was an amazing experience, it was a one time thing. You don’t expect to see him again.

But you do.

You run into him again and again and again.

At the market. At the park. At the coffee shop.

It’s fate! It’s the universe! It’s gotta be something, right?

It’s…him.

You really thought he was going to let you go after that world altering fuck? The way you blew his mind? The way your cunt hypnotized him?

Silly, beautiful, stupid woman.

Just the thought of someone else having you like that…no, he doesn’t even want to think about it.

How could he let you get away?

No, he had to hack your phone.

Not like it was hard…sure he’s more of a “field” agent. More used to having a gun in his hand and his boots on the ground, but he’s no stranger to some lines of spyware code.

Besides, you made it quite easy for him by sleeping in as long as you did…not that he minded of course!

You look so peaceful while you sleep. So beautiful, actually.

And really, he was so very glad he’d hacked your phone. How else was he supposed to know where you lived when you rejected his offer to pay for your transportation home?

But now that he’s in your phone, he’s practically in your life already.

Every contact you have saved, he knows.

Every place you go, he knows and can go there too. (How do you think your two have been running into each other so often?)

Every post you like. Every pin you save. Every song you playlist. He knows it all.

Not that you know it…not that you ever will.

He’ll let you believe it’s fate. Or the universe. Or whatever. Doesn’t matter to him, really.

Besides, you’re already his.

You even said so yourself…remember?

(Oh you don’t? Then why doesn’t he just remind you?)

[everlyblaar]

Blurb, not full fic | MDNI

So, Artist!Reader who unfortunately is going through creative block. But no worries! You know how to get the juices going.

The secret is that you just need a good orgasm or two so the system pumps up some happy chemical and you’re good to go.

Lucky for you, Neighbor!Soap is always happy (eager) to help. Can’t let a sweet thing like you needy and desperate, right lovie?

No string attached. Just sent him a quick text and he’s at your door the next second.

But thennnn. When you text this time, and open the door this time. There’s this huge grumpy masked man instead.

Cue awkward stare until your phone chime, sneak a quick glance at the screen, you saw Johnny texted you.

Saying that he can’t be here this time but knows who can help.

Oh well, that works too.

No string attached, right? They’re just helping you get back on your track.

Thennn, the next time you open your door to a beautiful smile.

Thennn, a DILF who looks like he climb out of your dashboard to be here between your legs.

So whenever Johnny is deployed but the others aren’t, they’ll make sure their little birdie is satiated.

A side mission for the 141 if one might said.

They’re happy that you’re happy. All satisfied to be able to go back to be creative. .

Until they are all on leave at the same time.

They mightttt have gone overboard, so now you can't even think, much less getting out of bed to do anything.

"Sorry lovie," Johnny chuckles, kissing your neck lazily as his hand works its way down between your legs again. "Let we fix it for ya? Huh? Just one more."

That's a lie, you quickly learn.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Sucking his dick and hearing him whimper before he cums would bring me to a higher plane of existence.

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

Proposal Headcanons for Task Force 141 + Graves

Soap

Soap cannot play it cool. The man tries, but the moment he realizes he wants to marry you, it takes approximately 36 hours before he blurts it out mid-date, mid-bite, mid-everything.

“I love you. You love me. Let’s just do it, yeah? Marry me. Right now. I’ll steal a ring if I have to.”

You think he’s joking—until he pulls out an actual ring box from his cargo pocket. It’s dented. A little dirty. But the ring inside? Stunning. Soap actually planned ahead but couldn’t contain himself long enough for the ‘perfect moment.’

He kisses you before you even say yes, whispering, “You’re gonna be the death of me… but what a way to go.”

He doesn’t even make it to the bedroom.

The moment you say yes, he tackles you onto the couch, hands everywhere, breathless laughter between frantic kisses. His mouth is on your neck, mumbling, “You said yes—you said yes, I’m gonna ruin you for the next three days.”

He gets downright feral. Clothes ripped off, ring glinting as he grips your hips and mutters filthy praise in your ear. “Say it again. C’mon, sweetheart, say you’re gonna be my wife—while I’m deep inside you.”

You’re so sore the next morning you can barely stand. He carries you to the shower, grinning the entire time.

Gaz

Gaz puts in work. He’s low-key about it, but he plans the proposal down to the smallest detail: your favorite place, the perfect playlist, the exact time the light hits just right.

He gives a small speech about all the things he loves about you—your laugh, your stubbornness, how you make coffee wrong but he drinks it anyway—and then casually drops to one knee like he’s done it in his head a thousand times.

“You don’t make sense with anyone else. You make sense with me. And I want that for the rest of my life.”

You’re a mess. He’s a mess. Even the waiter cries.

He starts slow. Intense eye contact. Whispering thank you against your lips as he slips the ring on your finger and lays you down like you’re sacred.

But once his lips are on your skin? He loses control.

Gaz eats you out like he’s starved, murmuring, “My fiancée tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” between strokes of his tongue. You’re trembling before he even gets his pants off.

And when he finally pushes inside? It’s deep. Slow. A claim.

“I’m gonna make you feel me for days,” he breathes, forehead to yours, hips rolling with purpose. “This is how your husband loves you.”

Ghost

Ghost doesn’t plan to propose. Not because he doesn’t want to—it’s because he’s terrified. Of losing you. Of not being enough. Of messing it up.

But then one night, he wakes up after a nightmare and sees you asleep, soft and peaceful beside him… and it hits him. He needs to make sure you never leave.

Next morning? He slips a ring onto your finger while you’re still sleeping. Sits beside the bed, just watching.

You wake up to him staring at your hand, expression unreadable.

“Hope that’s alright,” he says softly. “Didn’t think I could get through asking without losin’ my nerve.”

It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him—and the most sure he’s ever been.

You see a side of Ghost no one else ever has.

Once you say yes, the mask comes off—literally and figuratively. He holds your face, kisses you like he’s drowning, and when he lays you down, it’s pure worship.

But when he’s inside you? All that control breaks.

Rough thrusts. Low growls. Hands gripping your thighs like he needs you to anchor him.

“You’re mine now,” he rasps, voice cracking. “Gonna fuck you until that ring rattles on your finger.”

After? He buries his face in your neck and whispers, “My wife. Mine. Mine.” Over and over like a prayer.

Price

Price goes traditional—old-school, respectful, completely heart-melting. He asks your parents (imagine his old ass asking your parents LMAO (he's only 37)), he wears a suit, he brings you somewhere meaningful.

He drops to one knee with total conviction. Eyes steady. Hands only slightly shaking.

“You’ve stood by me through everything. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life giving you everything I’ve got left.”

It’s not flashy. It’s intimate. He looks you in the eye like a man who already sees your whole life together—and you say yes before he even opens the box.

Bonus: He tears up. Silently. And tries to hide it with a “Might be dusty out here.”

He pours a glass of champagne, gives a toast to Mrs. Price-to-be, and then takes you to bed like a gentleman…

…until he’s got you pinned under him, writhing, one hand wrapped around your throat just enough to make you whimper.

“This is what forever looks like,” he growls, sliding in with maddening control. “You wanna be mine? You better be ready to take every fuckin’ inch of me.”

He makes love like a man with something to prove—and he proves it again. And again. And again.

After? He smokes a cigar with your head on his chest, murmuring, “Next time, I’m bending you over the vows.”

Phillip Graves

Graves turns the proposal into a production. Champagne, string quartet, five-star dinner, and probably a drone flying a banner overhead.

He gives a speech in front of everyone. A loud one. “This woman right here? She’s the best thing I ever got my hands on—and I’m damn sure not letting her go.”

He definitely drops to one knee in slow motion. Probably has a photographer hiding in a bush. Maybe two.

The ring? Custom-made. Probably with your initials engraved inside. He flashes that smug grin and says, “You didn’t think I was gonna do this halfway, did you?”

After you say yes, he yells “She said YES!” like it’s a victory and kisses you like he just won a Super Bowl.

Graves worships you that night like a man obsessed. Pours champagne over your chest just so he can lick it off. Tells you exactly what he’s gonna do with his wife in every room of the house.

“Gonna fuck you in silk sheets and marble floors, darlin’,” he purrs. “You think the ring’s nice? Wait till you see what I do with this body.”

Takes his time ruining you. Bent over the bed. Face down on the counter. On your knees in the living room.

Every time he makes you come, he taps the ring and says, “Mine now. And I’m never lettin’ go.”

[julia4today]

downstairs hair hcs… (gn)

johnny cares deeply. he likes the bush. genuinely gets sad if he’s seen you shaved/waxed. that’s why you often do while he’s on deployment, so there’s at least a little bush when he gets back. but he can always tell. “et’s all short now. how dare ye hurt et.”

simon doesn’t give a singular shit. “it’s your body luv innit?” he’s actually confused as to why you thought he’d have an opinion on it.

price enjoys the designs. finds them amusing. a little landing strip? maybe a heart. one time you got an arrow. he laughed for a good while. “jesus christ lovie.” but overall, trimmed is his favorite. although, like ghost, he won’t suggest it, lets you do what you like.

kyle. well i could see kyle going for fully bald or a trim. i think im leaning towards just fully trimmed. i think bald makes him a bit uncomfortable. reminds him of a childlike essence and he prefers not to think of that while having sex.

that or he prefers bald but doesn’t mention it. not his prerogative.

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

I’m just imagining rugby players TF141. Price is the coach while Gaz, Soap, and Ghost are the players. You are their eager fanboy— always going to the games and first to buy merch. Following them on all social media and responding to all their posts.

We all seen rugby players and their bodies. Large beefy and hairy men just pressing against each other. TF141 is no different. So strong with their beefy muscular bodies— Soap and Price with the most good amount of hair on their chests and lower regions.

You would often find yourself jerking off or riding a dildo— imagining the silicon toy to be their dick. Moaning their names, wishing it was the real deal. You fantasized about the four men have the most perfect cocks. You know they have no idea you exist but that’s okay.

And they did notice you.

It was after a hard fought game that left them exhilarated and pent up at the same time. Price’s eyes monitored the crowd before laying them on you. As every one was leaving, the older man approached you. “I recognize you’re the fanboy? Me and the lads would like to meet you.”

You felt like passing out from those words. The coach was inviting you to meet them! This was a dream come true and you happily accepted the offer. You eagerly followed Price to the locker room— private section from the rest where the other players were.

Walking into the room, you were met with the three player completely naked, stroking their cocks. You stood shocked as you watched the scene, the three most sexiest men stroking their large erections.

“About damn time. This the lad who’s our fanboy? Look cute in those photos— now get to see you in person.” Simon grunts as he slows down his strokes and approaches you along with the others. All four men had you surrounded, Price was naked as well, his hairy beefy body pressing against your back.

You weren’t against this as your dream was reality. “Go on las, touch it.” Soap smirks as he waved his dick teasingly. You hesitantly touched it— was warm and thick in your hands, throbbing as you stroked it, the foreskin followed. Soap groans as he fucks your hand.

After that, you went from being their biggest fanboy to becoming their service boy. Satisfying their pleasures and stress after games or practice. All the men would stand in a circle and have you stroke their cocks and sucking— a bukkake circle. You happily accepted their thick loads of cum spurting on your face.

Then there was the actual sex. They rarely engaged in it before you came along. Now they’re feral whenever they fuck you. Your tight ass and moans of pleasure was music to them. You could determine that Ghost and Price were the biggest with average girth while Soap and Gaz were slightest above average with the greatest amount of girth.

You love it when the men fuck you dumb. You threw the toy away— demanded by Price since their dicks are the replacements. He doesn’t want you using that pathetic excuse now that you’re dealing with real cocks.

When it came to the sex, Soap and Gaz were more soft and passionate. Giving you praises and compliments. Their rough hands worshipping your body. Just wholesome.

Price and Ghost on the other hand— they’re more rough with Ghost being roughest. Price starts slow before ramming his cock deep into your ass— rearranging your guts. Ghost was just rough, he asked for your consent about it and you happily agreed to it.

Ghost would always prep you before fucking you like a sack of meat. His deep rough voice echoed into yours: “slut” “boytoy” “love being our whore” just degrading you. He left the most marks on your body— hickeys, bite marks, and hand prints.

At the end, the four men would work to clean your body. Washing you done and soothing your skin. Ghost would apologize for being rough while soothing rubbing your back. The four men basked in your presence.

It’s not greedy to have four husbands, right?

I just been feral for the last few days. More so than usual. These men just make me so 😩 keep this up and I’ll have all my requests for round 4 completed.

Tag list: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @starboye @boypied @maxxioislost @sluttyhusband

[goatgoesmbe]

Being Kyle's guardian angel.

You, who just trynna do your job.

So you didn't know how you ended up like this, face down on his bed with him pining you down. Listening to him cooing about how pretty you were as he sank into you.

His touches were gentle, slow, and teasing. Fingers trailed down your body before going up, feeling every feather of your wings, tracing the winglet, making you shak. Each plume trembled as he made you aware of an erogenous zone hidden beneath the softness.

He made you pliant beneath him, sweet and vulnerable, trusting.

But then, he yanked your halo down, forcing it around your neck like a collar before pulling back. Your spine arched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, breath hitching as he restricted your airflow.

Mind rendered stupid. Oxygens replaced by the rush of adrenaline and endorphins.

And you could only let him. Giving in to the pleasure as he continued to pound into you.

[ayyisasra]

The way I stumbled upon this by chance, and I’m glad I did! @soaps-mohawk you did so amazing with this story!!! I was hooked for days just reading this and when I wasn’t I was thinking about it. The complex emotions and trauma, the way you brought them to life!!!! I fell in love with this!! Ugh and the way you built that relationship with everyone but the way you went about Simon!!! I love all my boys but Simon has a chokehold over me. Had me laughing at “You’re so...British looking.” When he revealed himself. I feel like the way you went about it would definitely be realistic. My man is emotionally constipated. You really had me giggling and kicking my feet. Anyways- I can wait for more, if there is to be. You my dear have talent!!!

Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Chapters containing smut are marked with a *

Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST

This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE

I will no longer be using a taglist for this fic, please follow THIS BLOG and turn on notifications

**This fic is currently in progress**

NAVIGATION PAGE

CRCB DIRECTORY

Part 1 - The Omega

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Chapter 5 - What I Want *

Part 2 - The Bond

Chapter 6 - One Step Closer *

Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry

Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost

Chapter 9 - Save Me

Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*

Part 3 - The First Heat

Chapter 11 - It's Coming

Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins*

Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together*

Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*

Part 4 - The New Normal

Chapter 15: Bonnie*

Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes *

Chapter 17: Alone

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Chapter 19: Daddy Issues

Chapter 20: The New Normal *

Chapter 21: Crime and Punishment *

Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle

Part 5 - A Pack of Five

Chapter 23: Regrets

Chapter 24: The Last First Time *

Chapter 25: Animals *

Chapter 26: Fuck *

Chapter 27: Drown In It *

Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party *

Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega

Part 6 - The Tragedy

Chapter 30: Butterfly's Wings

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Part 7 - The Aftermath

Chapter 35: Threads

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Chapter 37: The Silence

Chapter 38: Shattered

Chapter 39: Life

Part 8 - The Next Chapter

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here

Chapter 41: Revenge

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Chapter 43: Lies

Chapter 44: Little Shit

Chapter 45: Heat of the Moment *

Chapter 46: My Girl *

Chapter 47: The Reunion

Title card made by the beautiful @141wh0re

[cumikering]

University Gaz x reader 2

2.7k | fluff You remembered why Kyle seemed familiar (part 1)

It was silly how you couldn’t stop thinking of the kind stranger who held you in the dark.

Kyle had taken your number at your door that night, but the days of silence chipped away at your blooming hopes. You didn’t even know him - you’d only met him once! While he seemed awfully familiar, you knew nothing more than his first name, major and that your classmate knew him.

Maybe he was just being nice. He was nice.

But that Wednesday afternoon, you turned to the voice calling out for you only to meet Kyle’s gorgeous smile.

Your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t help returning it as he jogged towards you out of the pitch in his rugby kit. While you weren’t surprised to see him on campus, you never realised he played even when you passed the pitch almost every day.

“Heading home?” he asked, drops of sweat running down the side of his face.

He stood a few feet away from you, and the distance was jarring because there had been a lot less last time. You took a beat, noting how his shirt emphasised his shoulders and chest while his shorts, the university’s logo embroidered in the corner, showcased his muscular thighs.

You realised then why he’d looked so familiar. It was embarrassing that who he was never occurred to you sooner.

“No, I’m tutoring Saybastian again.” You shifted your weight. “I’m grabbing a snack with a friend before I go over.”

“Oh, I was hoping I could walk you home after practice.” He pointed behind his shoulder with his thumb.

You glanced past him, at his equally-drenched mates on the benches who couldn’t hide their amusement as they observed the exchange.

“Well, maybe next time then,” he reassured with a smile.

Your heart raced. Did you miss him that much?

“Break’s over, Gaz! Let’s go!” The guy with a mohawk bellowed in a Scottish accent from the edge of the pitch, passing a ball back and forth between his hands.

He turned and called back, “Just a second!”

“Is this how you knew Saybastian? I know he plays too.”

Kyle laughed, running his fingers through his short hair. “Yeah, he’s in my team. He’s been skipping practice and he’s terrified of getting kicked out.”

“That explains why he looked like he was going to piss himself last week.”

“Hope he hasn’t been giving you more trouble.”

You shook your head. “He’s paid upfront.”

“Smart lad.” He nodded approvingly with an amused smile. “Are you into rugby?”

“I know next to nothing about it.” You chuckled sheepishly. “I’ve never even watched any of our matches.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” he teased, before his smile faded at the realisation. “Come on, it’s our uni’s pride and joy! Tell me you’re taking the piss.”

You laughed. “I’m serious. If I had, I’d have recognised you.”

He hummed, tilting his head. “How so?”

You averted your gaze as your lips pressed into a thin line, cheeks heating up. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Over your time in university, you’d heard of “rugby Kyle” in passing, praised for his skills on the pitch by the lads, his looks by the ladies, and academic achievements by the professors. You might have even seen an article or two of him on the bulletin board. But had you been to a match, of course you’d have remembered someone as beautiful as he was.

“Oi, Garrick!” the Scot called again.

“Coming!” he replied, not taking his eyes off yours.

You averted your gaze, a small smile on your lips. “You should go.”

“I meant it when I said I wanted to take you out. I know classes are getting busy, but are you free this weekend?”

You nodded.

“I can’t wait.” He reached out for your hand, but immediately caught himself and balled his fist before he made contact. “Sorry,” he said under his breath with a sheepish smile. “I’ll text you,” he stepped backwards.

You waved goodbye and with that, he sprinted back towards the pitch.

You walked away with flutters in your stomach, rubbing the back of your hand he almost touched. How could you stop thinking about him now?

It took too many days after the lift incident before Kyle saw you again. He didn’t know why he was so surprised to see you when you both went to the same university, but he would have been more presentable had he known your schedule beforehand.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to. You didn’t have to know he’d been buzzing to text you ever since that night. Sure, he’d let you know that he’d arrived home safely after walking you. You thanked him again for the evening, but that was it.

He could have, and should have, texted you. But how could he be sure he didn’t come off too strong? But when the thoughts of how sweet and adorable you were plagued his, he grew impatient. He promised to himself he’d text you with good news.

He wanted to be helpful, see? He’d been asking his mates for a spare bike you could use, and while no one had one, they knew something was up. Gaz fell off one as a teen and never wanted to get on one again.

Regardless, he’d made up his mind to text you anyway that night after practice. But what sort of coincidence was it that you passed the rugby pitch that fine afternoon?

Despite being drenched in sweat and caked with mud, he had to call your name out and jog to you as you smiled at him. The team’s teasing looks didn’t help the butterflies in his stomach, but he probably deserved the teasing for waiting so many days to text.

With how happy your smile made him, he shouldn’t have waited that long. While the accidental meeting quenched his thirst, he meant it - he couldn't wait to see you again.

That evening after practice, Kyle did some revising before deciding he was in no mood to (or more precisely he had no capacity to) with something else occupying his mind. You were right there in his building! He paced his kitchen before he finally braved himself to leave his flat.

What could he have said to Saybastian? He was missing an ingredient for dinner? It was a terrible excuse – his teammate was notorious for his takeout habit. Or perhaps, he wanted to make sure he was learning diligently, even when it was none of his business.

Kyle felt silly going through his catalogue of excuses in front of his mate’s door, but if he’d stayed in his flat, he’d have convinced himself to never leave. Like then, when he finally decided to abort mission, the door cracked open behind him, making him whip to it.

You blinked up at him as you stepped out the door. “Oh, Kyle, hi.”

“Gaz?” Saybastian perked up behind you. “Is something the matter?”

“No- I-” He laughed to himself.

“I've paid her in advance!”

“Good.” He nodded as he composed himself. “Good to know everything’s in order. You have a nice evening now, mate.”

“O-okay. I’ll see you at practice though, right?” he asked, worry in his voice.

“You know the rule.”

“Yes, I won’t be late. I promise!”

He nodded and closed the door before turning to you. “Well, I wanted to say hi.”

You laughed. “Hi.”

“You hungry?”

“Will be in a bit, was thinking of grabbing something on my way home.”

“Want to cook with me?”

Kyle had missed that smile. He helped you with your bag before leading you to the kitchen.

“You already started?” you asked, taking in the prepped ingredients laid out on the counter.

He chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, wanted to try my luck, see if you were still around.”

You rolled your hoodie sleeves up your arms and washed your hands. “Okay, how can I help?”

“While I start the pasta, you can help with the garlic bread, if you don’t mind.”

Kyle took out more ingredients from the fridge while you prepared the baguette. He sautéed the colourful veggies as you buttered the bread. Gentle sizzling filled the quiet room, as did the delicious aroma.

“How long have you been playing?” you asked.

“Since I was in my nappies. The whole family loves rugby.”

“Saybastian mentioned you’re getting scouted.”

He laughed, glancing at you mid-stir. “Talking about me now, huh?”

“He says you’re a legend, a top-scorer in your first year and was made captain for the second. He’s a huge fan.”

“I’m flattered, thank you.” He smiled. “Yeah, I do want to get into the elite league, but we all know how cut-throat the competition is, so who knows.”

“You always wanted to go pro?” You sprinkled salt over the neatly lined garlic bread in the baking tray.

“I don’t want to jinx it, but I’m hoping for the best. Whatever happens, at least I know I’d still enjoy an engineering job.” He paused. “But in another life, I’d probably be a soldier, maybe a police officer.”

“I think you’d look nice in a uniform.”

He whipped to you, but you weren’t quick enough to hide that smile as you turned to the oven with the tray. His heart skipped a beat. Were you flirting with him?

“I wanted to ask,” he started after he’d composed himself, dropping the pasta into the pot of boiling water. “We have a match next Wednesday. I can get you a spare ticket, if you’re interested.”

You slid the tray into the oven and turned back to him still with that teasing smile. “If that’s not too much of a hassle. Don’t want to get in trouble for never watching any of our matches.”

He laughed. He didn’t mind doing the arresting at all.

Kyle didn’t think he was a particularly impressive cook, but the joy on your pretty face during dinner soothed him. You chatted as you ate before helping him clean up. Not long after, you thanked him once more and excused yourself home.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said, stuffing his phone and wallet into the pockets of his sweats.

You blinked. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll walk you home.”

“Kyle, I’m not letting you do that. It’s 30 minutes each way and it’s getting late.”

“Exactly.”

“You’ve been so nice.” You placed your hand on his. “Please, I’ll be fine.”

He searched your eyes.

“You must be tired from practice as well.”

A small smile teased his lips. “Promise you’ll let me next time?”

“Yes, if it’s not so late.”

“Okay,” he said, eyes sliding your hand that just touched his. His heart shouldn’t be fluttering so hard, should it? “Would you let me know when you’re home?”

You nodded, and the eye contact remained for another moment before you stepped in with a small smile. He gave you a squeeze and walked you to the lifts, watching as you waved before the steel doors shut.

He smiled to himself as he headed back to his. He’d wanted to kiss your cheek again, but didn’t want to push his luck. He’d see you again that weekend for a date, he reminded himself, but that only made him squeal internally as he locked his door.

Could Kyle Garrick be any more charming?

That Saturday afternoon, he showed up at your door with that gorgeous smile. You look lovely, he said, giving you a once over that made your heart flutter.

He helped you lock up and offered his hand which you took gladly. His grip was firm and warm as he led you to a restaurant near the park.

He didn’t have to know how many glances you tried to steal (even though you had an inkling he knew anyway). He was effortless in his plain white t-shirt topped with a light jacket paired with jeans and boots. This time, he donned a dark grey beanie instead of a cap - making him look extra cosy -  while his stylish black watch tied his look together. You were glad you put in the effort that day too so you weren’t underdressed.

After lunch, he took you on a walk at the park accompanied by ice cream before you headed to watch a movie you’d been looking forward to. There, he too held your hand and eventually wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you leaned against him.

This wasn’t the first time you were in such proximity to each other. Still, it made your heart race, and yet he made you feel safe - even from the get go in that lift. You turned to look up at him, only to find a small smile on his lips, illuminated by the light from the screen dancing across his pretty face.

You didn’t look away fast enough when he turned to you. He gave your hand a squeeze.

At the end of the night as Kyle walked you home, he picked up a small packet of gummy bears you shared the rest of the way. Were you only imagining that his steps slowed as your building neared?

Maybe you could ask if he wanted to get another pack of gummies... But no, you shouldn’t hold him any longer. It was late and he’d been so kind to get you home. You shouldn’t be selfish, but your fingers curled tighter around his toned forearm.

“I’ll hand you the ticket on Tuesday after class?” He turned to you at your door. “I’ll have an hour before my next one, but maybe we can grab some lunch too if you have the time?”

You nodded. “Sounds good.”

His gaze slid to your lips for a split second before going back to your eyes. Your stomach flipped as he flashed you a smile, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

It bloomed a bashful smile that you wore to bed.

You started texting throughout the day, checking in here and there, updating you about his day.

Your reminder to rehydrate, Kyle texted Tuesday morning in class, along with a selfie of him grinning with his eyes shut next to his oversized water bottle.

You let out a small laugh. He was so adorable, but you didn’t want to be caught staring at him too long. You took a few sips and took a selfie as you rested your chin on your bottle. Roger, copy and check, sir

Before the class was over, another text came in.

I’m sorry, love, I’m held up in class :( I’m afraid I won’t get a chance to see you before the match tomorrow. Can I ask one of my mates to hand the ticket over?

Sure, but I don’t mind waiting a bit

I don’t know how long this will be :/ just told Johnny where to meet you

After class, you waited outside your hall. Soon enough, you turned towards the gruff Scottish voice calling for you. You remembered him: the lad with the mohawk.

“Never got to introduce myself the other day. Am Johnny,” he said with a friendly smile. “From Gaz.” He handed you a box of granola bars with a ticket on top of it.

You retuned his smile. “Thanks so much for taking the time, Johnny.”

“Did you know that’s his favourite flavour? He never shares with anyone - not even with me, his vice-captain!” He pointed at himself. “Can you believe it? He must really like you.”

You averted your gaze as you laughed. “We can share if you want,” you said, tearing off the box.

“Really?” His bright blue eyes lit up.

You handed him two bars. “Thanks again, Johnny.”

“Thank you.” He clutched them against his chest. “I’ll personally see to it you get the best seat. See tomorrow, yeah?”

You nodded. “Go well.”

With that, he walked off with a grin as he unwrapped a bar. When you turned away, you gripped the strap of your bag as you lost the battle with the smile from the little comment.

Masterlist Guitarist Gaz

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